And So It Goes
by whoknowstv
Summary: How do you pick up the pieces of your life after your husband dies and grief makes a home in your heart? What do you do when fate steps in and changes your life? Who knew that a chance meeting on a flight with a handsome stranger would turn Mercedes Jones' life upside down?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello Everyone! No, you are not seeing things. Instead of my usual wordy reviews, I have uploaded an actual story! Frankly, I am shocked too. Throughout the years, there have been several people, including TBloves2read, Rontora, and Mango, who have encouraged me to do this. Now, I haven't written any fiction since I was in high school and I don't want to get into how long ago that was! So, writing reviews was my comfort zone. But this year, I had made a New Year's Resolution that I would post a story on Fanfiction by the end of 2019. Since it is August, I was running out of time. Anyway, I wanted to do this in baby steps. So, I chose a TBloves2read route and find a book that I could put a SamCedes spin on it. By accident, I found "Big Girl Panties", by Stephanie Evanovich and I thought it would work. So, I took the novel, changed the names to Glee characters, threw in 30% of my imagination, embellished some of the dialogue, but for the most part I had kept a majority of Stephanie Evanovich's writing throughout.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I also do not claim any responsibility for Glee or the characters from the show. Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated.**

**SIDENOTE: I don't care what RIB said, for me Mercedes and Sam were/are/will always be the endgame.**

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**SAM**

I'm sorry, Mr. Evans", The gate agent said apologetically, "Unfortunately, the next flight out is the best that I can offer. I know that this is not what you wanted to hear and I do wish I could give you a better answer."

There is really no point in making a scene. Truth be told, there is nothing tackier than when an individual throws a hissy fit in public. Especially, if you are a celebrity and toss around the infamous "do you know who I am" spiel. By doing that, you might as well tattoo the word "Asshole" on your forehead. In an era of YouTube and Instagram, you are an idiot to go all postal.

After weighing in his options, Sam looked up, and focused in on the agent's eyes. Flashing his trademark grin, he said, "It is alright. It is not your fault. At least you got me out of the middle seat. Enjoy the rest of your day". With that, he had retrieved his bag from the ground and stepped away from the counter, so the agent could take care of someone else.

Sam Evans rarely hated anything, but flying coach was the exception to the rule. He hated the idea of being squashed in, especially when some strangers head is lying practically in his lap. He thought that he had left those days behind him a long time ago. Even with the two seats side by side, there is never enough room. That was bad enough. But thought that he may be forced into a middle seat, was enough to make him want hurl.

He could've waited for the next flight and flown first class, but that flight doesn't leave for another five hours and he was dying to get home. Not only was he ready for a night in his own bed, he simply had too much to do on the other end of the flight.

Sam was booked solid for the next three days, thanks to the shuffling he had to do to accommodate this trip. Basketball season was winding down, baseball is in full swing, and the football season will be gearing up soon. After all, training camp for the players starts in a few weeks. It is his responsibility to get those players who had spent their off season on the couch channel surfing and get them prepared to take on the rigorous activity that is known as training camp. Frankly, if it has been anyone but Mike Chang asking him to fly from Atlanta to San Francisco on the spur of the moment, he would've begged off.

Mike was the first baseman for the Atlanta Braves. While the Braves had an extremely qualified trainers on their staff, Mike wouldn't settle for anyone but Sam. After all, what an overpaid baseball player and best friend wants, the overpaid baseball player and best friend gets. Mike doesn't know the meaning of the word no and why should he? He has spent almost 15 years as a professional baseball player, so he had gotten used to having his own way. Even when you feel strong enough to say no, you are in denial. To the point that you have convinced yourself that you could be the one person to say no to Mike and stand behind it, you will cave quicker than a house of cards being introduced to a little gust of wind.

Anyway, Sam had made sure that Mike was stretched out for the two days and worked out with him earlier this morning. The Million Dollar Man was ready to go. Sam really couldn't complain. The cost for such spontaneous, unparalleled services was premium; the money was already in Sam's account.

Sam slid into his seat. His long legs were wedging up against the seat in front of him. He had tried in vain to sit up straighter in an attempt to generate more room. In the end, it was of no use so, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and did his best to filter out the external noises of the other passengers filing in around him. The constant opening and closing of the overhead compartments. Women with their purses just smacking people as they made their way down the aisle. A toddler refusing to sit down in his seat because he wanted to sit on his mother's lap. Sam exhaled a silent Zen mantra of gratitude for his window seat and his hope that the flight will find a mighty strong tailwind so he could get home faster.

Mind over matter is the key. Now that he had successfully accomplished this, Sam clicked his seat belt into place. That was when he had looked up and saw her.

"Please, may she not be sitting next to me," Sam thought to himself.

**MERCEDES**

"Perfect", Mercedes thought as she was desperately withholding the maniacal laughter, she knew would have the flight crew calling for security. In a post 911 world, it took so little for the airlines to go psychotic on your ass. It was like one of those old western movies that run occasionally on TV. Standing in the center of town at high noon, waiting for your opponent to make the first move so you have a justification for shooting his ass in the street.

It wasn't enough that she hated to fly. It wasn't even enough that she had to give up her original same-day flight and stay in San Francisco overnight after what felt like twelve rounds with the Mike Tyson of corporate raiders. She even managed to maintain her sanity after mistaking the hotel's tiny bottle of body wash for shampoo and lathering her already overgrown hair into an unmanageable, flower-smelling, mop. Blow drying only made it worse. If she had only brought a wig, scarf or even a funky hat, that would have solved her problem. Instead, she ended up scrounging around trying to find a rubber band to pull her hair back with. The waistband of her pants felt like a tourniquet due to the weight she had gained in the recent months. She could feel her bra strap cutting painfully into her right shoulder. Of course, it didn't help matters that her purse strap was resting on it.

She had counted the rows and stopped right in front of Sam. Her first impression of him was that he looked like a Greek God. Her second impression of him had her wondering if he got lip injections or not. Thick lips on a white guy simply were not natural. Mercedes had unconsciously reached up and did her best to run her finger through her disheveled and tangled up hair, but her hand got stuck down at the ends. She tried to remove them gracefully, but that wasn't much of a help. Now not only does she look like she had just gotten out of bed. Mercedes now had to spend the next five hours squishing right next to Adonis himself.

**AND SO IT GOES**

"I do believe that I am in the seat next to you", Mercedes stated in a rather shaky voice.

Sam looked up at the mocha skinned woman and didn't say anything. Just gave her a quiet nod of his head and then he had turned his face towards the window.

Mercedes could almost feel his disgust towards her. It was radiating out of him, as if the irritated expression on his handsome face wasn't enough of an indicator. Another round of her pissing someone off just by showing up. With a slight huff, Mercedes bent down, gritted her teeth and stuffed a large, brown, worn-out looking satchel underneath the seat in front of her and proceeded to sit in her assigned seat. In an effort to create some extra room for herself, she moved the armrest up, only to change her mind and pressed it back down. Trying to appear casual, she took a deep breath, sucked in her stomach as best she could, and buckled herself in. She took a moment to lean back in her seat and say a silent prayer as the flight attendants provided their safety instructions.

Sam couldn't help but notice how pale her knuckles got on takeoff. Her fists were clenched so tight around the armrest, he thought for sure that it was going to snap. Curiously, she showed no other outward signs of fright. At least she didn't start wailing or get the vapors or do absurd tricks to take her to her "happy place". But with a second glance, Sam realized she wasn't just gripping her armrest. She wasn't moving. She wasn't moving at all. He took a quick look at her face to make sure that she wasn't turning blue. She was staring straight ahead. Her eyes were wide open and seemed to be fixated on some focal point in front of the aircraft.

"Breathe, girl." Sam had found himself saying.

Mercedes blinked once as she felt the beads of sweat fall down her face. She tried to inhale, but to Sam, it sounded more like a gasp.

"I'm not so good at the take off." Mercedes had responded on an exhaled whoosh of air.

"You're doing fine," he told her confidently as he opened up a magazine.

"Thanks, Superman," Mercedes thought to herself. "Easy for you to say. I'll bet you can actually fly and are just on vacation". But she had kept those thoughts to herself. The plane was starting to level off and her breathing started to return to normal.

Once they were safely in the air and Mercedes' panic had passed. It was only then that she noticed how perfectly groomed he was. Chances are, he probably got a haircut every four weeks without fail. His eyelashes were longer than hers, and he even managed to make a green polo shirt and jeans look dressy. His broad shoulders vied for space much the same way her hips and thighs did, only his was defined muscle. Mercedes', on the other hand, was just mass.

She had glanced down at the magazine that he was casually thumbing through. Health and Fitness. Its pages showcased dozens of toned, firm bodies, much like his. The fitness models wore skimpy garments that appeared painted onto their flawless, tan skin. They flashed gloriously white teeth as they stretched and posed before backdrops of waterfalls, pools, and cliffs overlooking warm, sunny beaches. There were pictures of people in that magazine who looked like Mercedes too. Of course, they all had the word "before' in big, bold letters underneath their photos. Those pictures were not making her feel any better, so she had reached into her bag, pulled out her phone, and proceeded to straight to Angry Birds on her cellphone. Maybe flinging cartoon birds in the air will make her feel better.

That was short lived.

Before she had even made it up to level 6, a female flight attendant, looking strikingly like the model on page twenty-five of his magazine, stopped at their row with the refreshment cart. The moment that she had laid her eyes on the gorgeous specimen sitting next to her, she had turned on the charm. It was all that Mercedes could do not to give a loud snort. But then he spoke. No longer in the throes of takeoff anxiety, she could actually listen to him. His voice was like velvet, smooth like butterscotch, but there was a slight southern twang mixed in and that added to the sexiness of it. He flirted with the flight attendant briefly before requesting a bottle of water, but declined her offer of food. Mercedes did the same. Of course, she was dead sure that she was robbing them both of them some cruel, prejudicial satisfaction by not saying, "I'll take everything you've got." Mercedes turned to Sam as the cart rolled away and gave half a laugh.

"Nothing like the fit of an airplane seat to ruin an appetite. I'll bet this plane was used to transport munchkins out of Oz." Mercedes like to get right to the point. Taking on the gigantic pink elephant in the room. Why in the Hell did she feel the need to validate this specimen of masculine vanity? But she knew exactly why. She as going to be spending hours sitting next to him and she knew she didn't make the grade on his first impression meter. If she didn't want to spend the flight sitting like a statue in an effort not to embarrass herself by occasionally rubbing against him, she'd have to win him over.

He actually smiled, confirming the existence of his magazine-worthy pearly whites and gave a small shrug. He had grown accustomed to other people's feeling intimidated by his looks.

"Airline food stinks anyway." He was being sincere and his smile said so. Sam believed in karma.

She had sensed his original reaction when he first laid eyes on her. Sam could tell these things. The last thing that Sam wanted to be thought of as being the sort of guy who would deliberately made others feel bad about themselves. He was just a busy guy. A temporarily stressed guy, but a busy guy. A guy too big to fly coach on a packed flight. Sam actually felt bad for having thought the worst of the woman next to him right away. Especially about the way that she had smelled. Only lavender lingered, mostly from her hair. He always liked lavender.

"I'm Sam," he said.

"Oh, Sam! Like "I do not like green eggs and ham, I do not like them Sam I am" kind of Sam.

"Well, I must admit that I do like ham, but I am not fond of the green eggs part", Sam replied with a crooked smirk on his face.

With that, Mercedes had her first honest laugh of the day. She didn't realize how much she had needed it until she had heard it come out of her mouth.

"That's good to know Sam. It is nice to meet you. My name is Mercedes", She extended a soft, unmanicured hand, which he shook. Mercedes found that he had a strong, manly hand. A slightly sun-tanned hand that wasn't callused or gnarled from manual labor, but not the limp-wristed softness of a coddled pretty boy either. "Mercedes Jones."

"Mercedes, huh," Sam stated with a gleam in his eye. "Now it is my turn. Guess you were named after the expensive car?"

"I hate to disappoint a man like you, but my mother named me after her favorite actress Mercedes Ruehl. No car involved".

"Mercedes Ruehl, as in 'Married To The Mob' Connie Russo, Mercedes Ruehl?' Sam had replied.

"I'm impressed! You know your Mercedes Ruehl trivia. But seriously, I am sorry if I am squishing you a bit. They didn't have any room in first class."

So, she was in the same boat as he was in. But by the looks of her, he imagined it would've taken quite a bite out of her pocketbook to buy the extra space. " I know. I got bumped out, too. Heard some guy hit a big lottery and is flying in his extended family so they could climb to the top of Stone Mountain or something like that," he said, then added, "Go figure."

Of course, he'd been bumped. After all, why would a Greek God willingly choose to mingle with mere mortals? Around a guy like this, it was impossible not to take inventory of all your own flaws. He looked like he belonged on his own private jet. Sam didn't look like the type of guy who was accustomed to being jammed in like sardines in coach. Now he was stuck having to make small talk with the likes of her.

Mercedes stumbled through their conversation. Hating the words as the rushed forth.

"I never realized that there was that big of a difference between coach and first class. Almost like night and day. Of course, ever since my butt grew a twin, I was forced to notice."

Verbal diarrhea had entered the scene.

It was the second time that she'd tried to make a direct reference to her size, but Sam refused to join her in the joke. He had understood Mercedes' tactic: laugh at yourself before others get the chance. Classic defense mechanism.

From a professional point of view, Sam couldn't help wondering what type of body Mercedes Jones had under all of her self-esteem issues. Bodies were his business. Mercedes had deep, chocolate eyes that sparkled when the light hit them in a certain way. And the couple of times that she had chosen to smile, it practically lit up her face. Granted her hair looked like it had seen better days and a deep conditioning. Her clothes were wrinkled like she'd slept in them, and not comfortably. It was a look that would have made anyone else appear insane. But Mercedes Jones didn't look crazy. She just looked worn out.

Sam didn't want Mercedes to feel like he was judging her, so he let her off the hook. "Keeping in shape is an everyday battle." he said. He also knew the key to learning something about a person was to make them feel safe enough to open up. He wanted to make Mercedes feel comfortable, so maybe she'd stop all the jawing and cut to the truth.

"Watching somebody die is an everyday battle too," she mumbled, her round face scrunching up.

"Pardon me?" Sam hadn't expected to hear anything so tragic, and the shock showed on his face.

"I was never thin," Mercedes blurted out, suddenly feel even more closed in by her surroundings. Too bad that it will be several hours before she can touch ground again. "But when my late husband was diagnosed, it seemed like food was the one thing I could always count on being there. In a sea of chaos that was around me, it was the one thing that I could control you know? It became a double-edged sword. Food became both my friend and my enemy all at the same time."

In his mind's eye, Sam saw himself thumping his fist against his own forehead.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to pry. You look too young to have lost …." his words trailed off. The only thing that was going around in his head was "that was really smooth Evans." Where in the Hell was his composure all of the sudden? Probably in first class with a hot towel being applied to it.

"It's all right." Mercedes hated pity as a rule. But what she hated even more was the fact that she'd just used her status as a widow to make this man feel uncomfortable as she did. Besides, it probably wasn't his fault that he was a total buck. The silver spoon variety. You know the type, one of those individuals that nothing bad ever happens to them. Now she was sorry that she had even brought it up.

"We were together for twelve years and married for ten of those. Anyway, he got sick and there was nothing that anybody could do. I thought that we would have forever. But who would have thought that forever was for such a short period of time? Doesn't really matter, does it?"

No. It didn't matter. "I'm sorry," Sam repeated, not willing to risk becoming tongue tied again.

They sat in awkward silence as the word "sorry" swirled around in the thick air around them. Sam was sorry for her situation. Mercedes was sorry for herself.

Exhausted from depression and self-loathing, Mercedes folded her hands in her lap. Make no mistake, it was an unconscious effort to hide her muffin top. She flashed back to the customer service counter at the airport no more than two hours ago. Mercedes had felt uncomfortable with the way that the airline representative looked her over as she booked Mercedes into one of the last remaining seats on the flight. Then there was the rep's not-so-gentle suggestion that Mercedes might want to wait for another flight to keep her first-class seat. It was a reservation that Mercedes had made to avoid the embarrassment of being forced to buy two seats in coach. The victory that resulted after the stare down and subsequent judgment that one seat would suffice felt hollow somehow. She shifted in her chair and with that movement, she had shifted her thoughts as well. Thoughts about all that she had lost in the past three years, and how fast those years had passed.

Sam had studied her discreetly. She'd laid it all out in front of him on a flight from San Francisco to Atlanta. Had she done it because of his initial reaction? Would he have been so quick to judge her if they were seated together in first class? Would he even have taken a second look? Would he have extended his hand, started a conversation, if his own comfort zone hadn't been violated? In the spirit of Karmic exploration, he decided it might be worth learning more.

In order to do that, Sam regrouped and started over. "So, are you coming or going? I'm on my way back. I live in the Buckhead area of Atlanta."

"Coincidence," she replied politely. Mercedes turned her head over to his direction, the frown back in place. "I live in Sandy Springs. I had to deal with some loose ends out in Palo Alto. I have been told that they miss me, so every once in a while, they like to see my face."

The sense of karma returned like a wave crashing down upon him. It was a chance to right a wrong, to reach out to another person and at the same time bring himself back into balance. Sam waited for a moment, wanting to choose his words carefully.

"You've been through a real rough stretch, I know. It's easy to let yourself go when you are focused on someone else. But the fact is, you're still here, very much alive, and far too young to hang it up. I could help you break some bad habits. Might even make you feel better."

"And just how might you be able to do that?' Mercedes gave him a skeptical sideways glance, intrigued by the fact that he's turned on the charm for her.

"I'm a personal trainer," he told her, "primarily for athletes. We live close to each other. I could get a program going for you with no trouble."

She bristled. "Do I look like an athlete to you? Sam, I hate to break it to you, but the last time I played any sports, Billie Jean King was smack talking Bobby Riggs."

Sam's smile grew wide. "Somehow I doubt that. That happened in the seventies. You weren't even born yet. And besides, I said 'primarily'."

She didn't even bother smiling back. " I appreciate your charity, but it won't be necessary. Thanks anyway."

But Sam was feeling caught up in a rush of inspiration he hadn't felt in years. An idea began to take root in his brain. He threw he head back and laughed. "Who said anything about charity? I'm just trying to drum up business. Occupational hazard, I guess."

He was sure she would never be able to afford his five hundred-dollar-an-hour price tag and he needed new business like he needed a whole in his head. But besides wanting to make up for acting like a shallow ass, Sam was suddenly hit with the overwhelming feeling that a real opportunity was presenting itself. His job often bordered on the mundane now. Lately he felt like a little more than a glorified counter or repetitions, a naysayer to the latest in fad drugs and metabolism boosters.

This would be a break from his every day.

When Sam first started training - long before working with Mike Chang, Chase Walker, and other professional ballplayers - he'd felt a real sense of accomplishment in showing a beginner all that they were capable of. There was a real high in pushing someone to their limit, watching them transform, especially with women. The female body in motion was an entirely different animal. It had so much more natural balance, so much more grace. Sam thought about how it responded to weight training in a totally different and noticeable way. It had been too long since he'd enjoyed the challenge of showing a woman her true potential. Since Mercedes was not his type, the sexual tension would be minimal.

In the early stages of his career, he did hit a stumbling block when it came to his female clients. That was the main reason why he never took on female clients anymore. Sam had long since acknowledged this unprofessional shortcoming with women with only a modicum of dishonor. Something about his testosterone and their estrogen, mixed with an endorphin rush, and that was sometimes more than he could resist. Adding fuel to the fire was the fact that most of the women that he had taken on as clients in the past were women, he found attractive to begin with. He refused to feel bad about that. It was a problem that solved itself quite naturally as his client list grew long with the teammates of his most prestigious customers instead of attractive women. But with Mercedes, there would be no problem keeping it professional. She would be the perfect project. He could get her back in the game of her own life and enjoy watching her transformation in the process.

Sam came up with a lowball figure and Mercedes stopped frowning and seemed to consider the offer. It was an offer presented to her by an extremely attractive stranger. An attractive stranger with sandy blonde hair and the most gorgeous, piercing green eyes that she had ever seen on a human being, black or white. He reminded her of a Saint Bernard puppy. The very type of dog whose job it was to come to the rescue of desperate people. A Saint Bernard puppy with lovely broad shoulders and bulging biceps. Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all. Then again, maybe he was. If that was the case, it would serve him right to be saddled with her several times a week for the next couple of months. Either way, what could it hurt? After all, it had been a while since she had kept company with anyone after her husband's death. Even before his death, if she was honest with herself. There were probably worse places to start, but for the life of her, she couldn't think of any at the moment.

For the rest of the flight, neither of them said anything more about his proposal. Sam had entertained Mercedes with stories of his time in Brazil and training in martial arts. He was hoping to distract her as the plane had descended into Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson Airport. It seemed to have worked. He kept her fully engaged and she had barely noticed the plane touching down. They landed and made their way together to the parking lot. Before parting ways, Mercedes asked him for his card by telling him that she would take up his gauntlet and be in touch.

But Sam wasn't going to let her get away that easily. He needed a commitment now. If he gave her too long to think about it, she would come up with all sorts of excuses.

"Make the appointment now." he stated, as he reached into his bag, pulled out his cellphone, and asked Mercedes for her number. "How about Thursday night at six?" he asked as he was handing her his card.

Mercedes took a moment and looked over his business card and wasted no time in accepting. "You're on Sam Evans."

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**So what do you guys think? Nothing like diving into the deep end of the pool and you can't swim! LOL **

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you everyone for your love and support as I finally follow through with a New Years Resolution. It means more to me than I can possibly say. If I could reach out and hug each and everyone of you, I would in a heartbeat. Until I had hit that submit button on my first chapter, I didn't realize what a scary leap I was taking from being just a reviewer to a FanFiction author. You guys have embraced me and you will forever have my thanks. XOXO**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I also do not, nor do I want to claim any responsibility for Glee, the characters from the show or season 6 on principle alone. Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA.**

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Sam shut the front door to his tenth-floor luxury Buckhead condo with his foot. He was doing his best to balance both his knapsack, his duffle bag, the mail, and his keys while he reached for the wall switch with his elbow to turn on the lights. Whoever said that Sam was not talented, obviously didn't know him well at all.

He made his way to the dining room table and began sorting through the mail. It was truly amazing how much mail piles up after just a few days. Bill, check from client, bill, magazine, check, advertising flyer, fitness merchandise catalog, another bill, magazine, a check from another satisfied client.

Sam paused. Today, he had taken on a new client. A spontaneous gesture to be sure, but it was made out of a combination of zeal and self-reproach. A client so far out of the realm of his current level of programs, that it will turn him back into becoming a novice. Usually, his clients are already considered fit or at least have some sort of fitness level attached to them. Mercedes didn't possess any of that. In fact, he couldn't even remember the last time that he had a client that started from square one. It looks like he would have to bone up on his beginner manuals. Maybe it was a good thing. It wouldn't hurt him to reinforce his education.

He was in the process of going back to sorting through his mail, when he was interrupted by a doorbell. He tossed the mail on the table, glanced at the clock on the wall, and walked over to the door. It was pretty late in the day for a haphazard stop-by. He opened the door and a lazy grin spread across his face.

She was long and lean, with delicate bone structure. Blond, perfectly styled hair, glossy pink lips, and today, she was wearing aqua colored contact lenses. The hip hugging jeans, blue satin camisole and white leather jacket completed her look. It was a look that had graced hundreds of magazine layouts and made Quinn Fabray a star.

"When you didn't answer my text, I figured that you were out of town," he drawled, moving out of the way to let her enter.

"Now, what kind of surprise would that be?" Quinn countered as she gave him an affectionate pinch on his cheek as she sashayed passed him and headed towards the living room. "It is my job to keep you guessing". She was feisty and he liked it. Sam followed behind her and appreciated the sweet breeze of her perfume. It wasn't lavender, but it would have to do.

"I just got home. Good timing on your part. If you ever want to change careers, you would make a pretty good stalker," Sam teased, joining her in the living room, where she had stopped short and rounded on him. The look on her face told him that she seriously didn't appreciate his joke.

"I fly almost two hundred days a year," she huffed. "I know how to look up a flight schedule. Don't flatter yourself Sam. You're not that special."

But he was that special and Quinn hated to admit that to herself. She hated to admit that there was anyone who could bring her to her knees. Sam Evans was a great catch and it hadn't taken her long to figure that it out. He was everything a girl could want. He made his own successful living. He had famous friends. He was just as confident as he was gorgeous and charming. Sam adapted to every situation with an ease that he could only have been born with that particular skill. He never told her how to handle her own affairs, unless she specifically sought out his advice. He was easy going, yet smart about business. He never treated her like a dumb blonde. He had understood her intelligence. AND THE SEX! Sam made love to her like making a woman orgasm was his sole purpose in life and that she was the only woman on the planet.

There was just one problem. It was a huge problem. It was the only problem that prevented him from being the perfect man. Sam was nonchalant outside the bedroom. At times, it was bordering on aloof. It was almost as if he could stop seeing her tomorrow and wouldn't break a sweat. He was never the least bit disappointed when she had to turn him down. He never interrogated her as to her whereabouts or even seemed particularly interested in them aside from polite in inquiries. He would charmingly evade any hint of commitment. He never showed a bit of jealousy at other men's attentions or outright advances. He wasn't overanxious to touch her in public.

Together, they were the Ken and Barbie. Quinn with her model good looks and Sam as the delicious dessert that looks good in a suit as well as out of it. Wherever they went as a couple, they turned heads. Friends have even told her that they look like the couple photo that came with the frame.

At first, it had been a welcome challenge when she couldn't bend him to her will. But now since their relationship had hit the fourth month mark, she was ready to make a change. She was ready to up the game. She wanted him to label their relationship. Unfortunately, Sam wasn't ready to endorse. It was beginning to drive her mad. Truth be told, she had been waiting in the parking lot of his building for an hour after receiving a suggestive text message saying that he was boarding a flight for home.

"Hey, beautiful," he said. Sam knew that he would have to make amends. He walked over to her and slightly touched her arm. "I was just kidding you. You are positively a sight for sore eyes and I wish you had been waiting at the door, wearing nothing but a bow," he breathed into her ear as he reached beneath her hair with both hands and pulled her in for a sound kiss. Quinn was flushed and quickly yielded to his affection. Satisfied that he had quelled the beginnings of a fit, he set her back and swiped at her lower lip with his thumb to remove smeared gloss.

"Oh, if only that were true," Quinn sighed dramatically. "I would wear nothing but a bow for the rest of my life." She tried to match his casual demeanor. "But instead, I will be on a plane first thing tomorrow to Cali for the Reebok spread. Talk about irony. You just left from California and tomorrow, I will be heading there."

"How long are you staying this time?' he asked, his gaze focused solely on her mouth. Without even looking into her eyes, he could make her heart start racing. His eyes were already conveying the need, the desire, to taste her again. The look that he gave, triggered the need in her.

"Maybe two weeks." Quinn sighed again. She was already weak in the knees and she knew it. But she was doing everything in her power to make sure that Sam didn't see it. She wasn't sure if she was succeeding, but she sure as hell was going to give it a try. Her lips came together in a well-practiced, adorable pout. "The agency lined up some other appointments to make the most of the trip. It might be longer if any of those pan out."

"Then we better not waste any time," Sam kissed her again. This time, it was deeper. The one thing that Sam was an expert at and that was multitasking. His strong arms started peeling off her jacket and tossing it aside before pulling her in close again. His fingertips toyed with and then dipped slightly into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back.

"I guess, I'd look like a real dick if I took you right here without even offering you something to drink," He reluctantly withdrew from her and grabbed her hand to lead her towards the kitchen.

"Thirsty?" Sam asked.

"Oh yeah, I am thirsty," Quinn replied, "but not for anything that you have in your refrigerator."

That was all that Sam needed to hear.

* * *

Mercedes was sitting on the couch in her living room. In one hand, she held the television remote. In the other hand, a liter bottle of Coke. An open bag of Funyuns sat wedged between her legs. She surfed the channels aimlessly from one program to another.

It should have been just another night, when the only thing to come alive was her television. On a normal night, she could hide within the countless sitcoms depicting the hapless antics of mismatched couples falling in love despite their foibles. She could uncover murder plots along with the glamorous women who looked like they'd stepped out of a magazine instead of a grubby police station. They busted thugs with the help of unbelievably attractive male partners who found them irresistible, despite the danger and the call of duty. Mercedes could be picking apart reality TV, snickering at the fools who willingly set their dignity aside for the sake of being in front of the camera.

But it wasn't just another night. She had agreed to have a professional work out training session. Not just a training session. But a training session with a man that Google called the sexiest fitness expert who does not have his own television show. A man, who was among People Magazines Sexiest Man Alive issue. Judging by the picture that they had showed, Mercedes was shocked that he wasn't at number one. Granted, when you think about the world at large, number 57 is not bad, but still.

In a few days, she would become a disciple of Sam Evans. The disciple of the tallest, handsomest stranger that she had ever met.

The thought of working out with Sam scared her more than the actual workout itself. Sam was used to working out with hardbodies. Mercedes knew that her body was a lot of things, hardbody is not one of them. The mere fact of Sam getting close to her jelly, had sent her into a hot flash.

Mercedes needed a diversion. She wished that she could find an infomercial of Tony Little pushing his Gazelle. Even when Anthony was rapidly deteriorating, Tony Little was a good for much needed laugh as she watched his long Fabio hair trying to keep up with his frenzied pseudo-leaping as he shouted inspirational mumbo jumbo.

In the end, Mercedes decided to stop on a show about hoarders. Truth, she had debated between that and watching a Dateline episode on the ID channel. But this hoarder's episode featured people who looked more like her, but were living neck-deep in garbage and broken keepsakes. She watched in horrified fascination as teams of well-meaning, hazmat-suited cleaners came to the hoarders' rescue. They had scooped up the trash, while the doctors asked the hoarders how they felt about discovering a twenty-five-year-old blanket full of holes and covered with rat droppings, or a petrified fruitcake they got from their neighbor back in 1986. Within an hour, their homes were set right and their problems solved.

She knew it wasn't that easy.

And then there were the never-ending parade of diet ads. Celebrities who'd had, in Mercedes opinion, perfectly acceptable figures to begin with, were transformed into skin and bones. According to the commercial, hey were now living the life that they had always dreamed of. What the hell was wrong with their lives to begin with? There was another one that talked about a pill that would shed pounds magically. Then the quick voice over would say that it should only be taken by those who "seriously need to lose body fat." Even the way the spokeswoman said the word "fat" was a comical over-pronouncement of a three-letter word. Mercedes pointed the remote at the television and turned it off.

She could see her reflection in the dark plasma screen. It was a distorted mirror image of Mercedes sitting on the couch. She stared into it. The image on the screen was an amorphous blob. Flesh stacked upon more flesh oozing all over the couch. Granted, that was a little harsh, but we are our own worst critic. The neon yellow and green from the top of the Funyuns bag between her legs was reflected with unsettling clarity. Mercedes squeezed her thighs together tightly and heard the crunching sound of the Funyuns being pulverized.

The phone rang and Mercedes reeled in her fright. She threw the Funyuns on the table in front her and took a quick sip from her bottle of Coke. She reached across the other side of the couch to pull the handset from its cradle.

"Hey, girlfriend," the cheery voice said. "How you holding up?"

Marley Rose had known Mercedes longer than anyone outside her own parents. Marley was a hometown girl who'd married her high school sweetheart and became Mrs. Ryder Lynn. They had three kids and never left Lima, Ohio, but the friendship between Marley and Mercedes had remained throughout the years and across the miles. Marley had the bubbly, energetic personality that Mercedes had always longed for and an overactive metabolism to match. While Mercedes was cynical about a lot of things, Marley only saw the best in people.

In junior high, she and Mercedes acquired the nicknames Stick and Stone because they were always together. Marley was the Stick - tall, thin and had a blonde Mary Poppins thing about her. Marley was the 'It" girl at their high school. Guys were always around her like Scarlett O'Hara at the barbeque. While Mercedes was Stone - short, dark, round and so not the 'It' girl. Mercedes never found the name particularly flattering, but tried to embrace it anyway. She found it rather ironic since there were times in which she was sure that Ryder would have liked to skip her across the lake. She had been the third wheel way too often for Ryder's liking. Mercedes could tell that he was relieved when she had left for college. Ryder was more excited about her getting into Stanford than she was and Mercedes was pretty damn excited. If Ryder could have framed Mercedes' Stanford acceptance letter, he would have. Hell, Ryder practically helped Mercedes pack and drove her to the airport. For a guy who wouldn't help a little old lady cross the street, that said something right there.

There was no shock involved when Ryder got Marley pregnant before Mercedes' first semester at Stanford was over.

Mercedes greeted her childhood friend. "Hi Marl. Hanging in there! How's tricks?"

"Same as it ever was. I hope I am not calling you too late?" Marley asked.

"No, you're fine." Mercedes answered back. "Besides, my body is still on San Francisco time."

"I meant to call you earlier, but the baby had a cold. The cough was horrendous! You should have seen the stuff that was coming out of her nose. She's like a little snot machine." Marley laughed.

"Sounds appetizing," Mercedes quipped. Before she knew it, her eyes drifted over to a framed photograph that sat on the end table. It was the first photo that she and Anthony had taken together. At that time, they were dating for about six weeks. He was making such a fuss that he didn't have a photo her. Mercedes always said that she had looked terrible if photos, so she doesn't do them. That the DMV was lucky to get the one shot that they do have. But Anthony wouldn't hear it. He kept hounding and hounding until she gave in. It was a sunny day, they had a picnic in the park and Anthony being the technical geek he was, decided it would be a perfect time to take a selfie with the two of us. He had always told her that it was his favorite photo.

As Marley rattled on about her youngest child, it was hard to ignore the pang of sadness that always came with the word "baby". She and Anthony had talked about it, but after he was diagnosed, they had quit trying. After that, it was just a downward spiral. Mercedes told herself that it wasn't meant to be. If she wasn't allowed a forever with Anthony, then what was to point? She couldn't imagine being a single parent with the added burden of seeing a child through the sort of grief that she had endured and still couldn't understand herself.

Marley continued. "Since Monday, all she's done is cling to me, the poor thing. I feel like I haven't slept in days. How did things go in San Francisco?"

"Pretty much as I had expected. They worked me over, each side was doing their level best to get me on to their side. Right now, they all just see me as "The Widow", Anthony's widow. A fragile little flower, who doesn't know a thing about the company that Anthony had built from the ground up. It is a shock to their systems when I set them straight. It takes brains to graduate from Stanford. They don't give out degrees like they are candy. Besides, I have the majority shares in the company, so they are going to have to deal with me. Even if I should happen to sell those shares, according to Anthony's will, I would still have a seat on the board. I'm a bad penny. They cannot get rid of me."

"Anthony would have been proud of you," Marley told her. "Proud that you are carrying on his legacy."

"I just wish that he was here to carry it out himself," Mercedes replied. "Anyway, just to change the subject, I did have a weird experience on the plane ride home though."

"Oh no!" Mercedes could hear the concern in Marley's voice. "You didn't freak out on the plane, did you Cede? Did you take the Xanax like I told you to?"

"No, I didn't take Xanax," Mercedes said, regretting having told Marley about the prescription she got after Anthony's funeral. "I didn't freak out either. I met a guy."

"You did?" Mercedes could picture Marley sitting down in a chair and tucking her feet under her, getting ready to interrogate her. "To quote 'The Wizard Of Oz', that is a horse of a different color! Do tell!"

Mercedes was quick to clarify. "Not that much to tell. Although he is awfully easy on the eyes. He's a personal trainer. I'm going to start working with him. My first session is on Thursday".

"Holy shit!" Marley squealed with delight. "Is he coming to the house? Like in Desperate Housewives?"

"First of all, it was the gardener that made house calls, not the personal trainer. Second of all, even if he was coming to my house, I don't plan on screwing him on my dining room table. Third, I don't own a fancy enough evening gown to mow the lawn in." she had pointed out to her friend.

Mercedes thought about the business card still in her wallet and pressed on. "Anyway, he gave me a card with an address on it. He probably works out of a Planet Fitness or Crunch. They're both in that area."

"Well, what is his name?"

"Sam Evans," I replied back.

"Sam Evans, huh," Marley countered. "Let me go and check him out."

Before Mercedes knew it, she had heard her friend typing feverishly on the other end of the phone line. She was about to call out to her, when she heard a crash. "Marley! Marley! What is going on? Are you okay?"

"Guuurlll!" Marley got back on the line. "OH MY GOD!"

"I heard something crash!"

"Sorry about that. That was just my jaw hitting the keyboard. Took a little time picking it back up. That Sam Evans is a specimen! Talk about eye candy for days! And those hands! You know I am a sucker for long fingers. If only he would stick his candy in my dish!"

"TMI, Marl! TMI!" Mercedes practically exclaimed into the phone. She knew that there was a strong chance that her friend was seriously fanning himself. Marley was a hot mess and she wouldn't have her any other way. "Are you through now?" she asked once Marley's laughter had died down.

"Yeah, but judging by what I am reading, there is no way that Sam Evans works out at some daggum Planet Fitness or Crunch. Seriously though, are you nervous?", Marley asked.

"Hell, yes I'm nervous! I don't think he intentionally wants to kill me, but he may end up doing it accidentally. He's in pretty good shape. Honestly, I've never seen anything like him in person. I thought dudes like him were all photoshopped."

"Holy shit", Marley repeated. "Does he know that you've been sitting on that couch for a year and a half?"

"I think he could probably tell just by looking at me. I figure I'm just going to show up and focus on staying alive. But just in case, I'm going to give him your number in the event of an emergency."

"No problem."

"Remember, I don't want to be kept alive on machines." Mercedes shuddered. The memory of Anthony at the end was still painfully etched in her mind.

"Cede, don't even kid about that. You're going to be fine. No more doom and gloom talk. I'm sure he knows what he is doing.

"I hope that…." Mercedes started to say

But Marley continued on as if Mercedes didn't say a word. "I wonder if this guy is going to scream in your face and make you cry and have a breakdown to get to all of your issues?"

"You know that you are not helping me with my nervousness," Mercedes said.

"Please tell me that you at least went out and brought some fancy new workout clothes?"

"Marley, I just agreed to do this today. But I promise you that I will go out and buy some sneakers. I'm not really into the fashion show aspect of all of this. Plus, I don't think that there's enough spandex in the world to fool him. I thought I would worry about the important stuff. You know, like breathing and staying conscious."

"It is not about fooling anyone Mercedes. It is about setting the stage for success. It is about getting out of your own way."

"Did you just throw a Weight Watchers ad at me?" Mercedes asked suspiciously. "Just for that, I am hanging up the phone," she laughed. "But seriously, I need to go. According to you, I have some serious shopping to do in the morning and I am going to need a full eight hours of sleep before I even brave Perimeter Mall."

"Good point. You know I love you and I just want you to be happy again. Just so you know, I am super, duper proud of you."

"I love you too," Mercedes told her. Deliberately leaving out that she didn't think she would know happiness if it came up and bit her on the ass. "But why don't you let me worry about my weight?"

"You just need to take that first baby step," Marley told her optimistically.

"Marley, I just wrote a big, fat check to a personal trainer. I feel like I am stepping off a cliff. Are you telling me that's not a big enough step for you?"

I guess that will do for now," Marley smirked. "But seriously, I have to go. Seeing the photo of your trainer has made me horny as hell, so I am going to wake up Ryder. I seriously need some satisfaction! Bye girl!"

With that, Marley was gone and Mercedes was left wondering what she had just gotten herself into.

* * *

**SamCedes interaction will happen in the next chapter!**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Let the workout begin. Story is based on "Big Girl Panties" from Stephanie Evanovich. Changed the names to Glee characters to protect the innocent, placed in about 30% of my imagination, and embellished the dialogue.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I also do not, nor do I want to own or claim any responsibility for Glee, the characters from the show or season 6 on principle alone. Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA.**

* * *

Sam wasn't sure the woman who showed up was the same Mercedes Jones he had met on the plane. The Mercedes standing before him appeared to be youthful and much less stressed. She wore black sweatpants, an oversized pink T-shirt, and the latest in cross-trainers. Her dark hair finally looked tamed, pulled neatly back in a ponytail. She even carried with her a two-liter bottle of water. While he never really thought she would bail out, he was secretly impressed to see that she had come ready to get down to business.

"Hi, Mercedes." He gave her a wave, walking over to her as she entered his studio. The khaki shorts exposing his defined calves and the yellow T-shirt that pulled across his expansive torso before tucking itself in at his trim waist were nothing short of jaw-dropping. "Nice to see you again. I just need to get a couple signatures from you. It is the standard contract waiver sort of thing. You ready to get to work?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Mercedes smiled, taking the pen. She didn't know whether to be scared to death or psyched as hell. But she had come this far and there was no turning back now. That opportunity had come and gone in the fifteen minutes that she had spent loitering on the sidewalk.

The client with the time slot before hers had drifted out the door. He was a monster of a man and she was sure that he was a professional basketball player. There must have been a deer caught in the headlights look on her face, because he had stopped and asked her if she was lost. The only thing she could do was shake her head. She actually lost her ability to speak.

Marley was right. This place definitely was no Planet Fitness. If it is, it is Planet Fitness on steroids.

This was exclusively his space and she was going to receive his full attention. He really was a personal trainer, with an emphasis on "personal". In the spacious room stood Sam, Mercedes, and every piece of exercise equipment know to the workout world. The place was orderly, pristine, and didn't smell like a locker room. Happy pop music drummed in the background. Mercedes started leaning towards scared. There would be no one here to hear her screams. She calmed herself with the thought that even someone as strong as he was would have trouble disposing her body.

The next thing he did was weigh her. Mercedes' smile instantly faded and the urge to scream bordered on overwhelming as he led her to an old-fashioned balance beam scale.

Her grandmother had that scale.

"Didn't anyone tell you these things come in digital now?" she said under her breath. After all, at least with a digital scale, it would feel more like ripping off a Band-Aid. A few seconds and BANG! The horrifying number slaps you in the face like a cold cherry slushy being dumped on your weave. Mercedes bent down, beginning to untie her sneakers. Every ounce counts.

"These medical-type scales are much more reliable and easier to calibrate," Sam told her calmly. "Not to mention, I don't need a magnifying glass to read them. You can keep the shoes on. It's not going to make that much of a difference."

Ouch!

"Maybe the digital ones are harder to read because they say is none of your freaking business," Mercedes grumbled, standing back up. Still, she got on the scale and ended up shaking her head in dissatisfaction the whole time. The dissatisfaction had nothing to do with Sam. It had to do with the fact that she had allowed herself to get this bad.

She couldn't yell at Anthony. No point in yelling at Sam because he is trying to help. In the end, she was the one to blame. She made the choice to put junk food into her mouth. She made the choice to live in that denial. It was all on her and nobody else.

"Everyone hates this part," Sam said, trying to settle her as he nudged the needle farther and farther to the right. "But we need a starting point. It's only a number, kid. It's only a number. But if it makes you feel better, take a good look at it because it is the last time that you will ever see it."

Mercedes was seventy-eight pounds from the highest number considered acceptable, even to her.

"Happy now?" She couldn't keep the sarcasm from her voice. She hadn't stepped on the scale in years and now she had remembered why. What did she expect? This was somehow fooling him and herself into thinking she wasn't obese? That the scale was going to read one hundred and thirty pounds and they both could go home? A nervous laugh bubbled out of her, echoing throughout the room. A hundred and thirty pounds? Maybe if someone dug up her bones six months after she was dead and weighed them. She hadn't seen one hundred and thirty since she was in junior high. "Guess you have your work cut out for you. I think I saw the term 'no refunds' in that thing you had just made me sign. That goes for you too, you know."

Sam continued, seemingly oblivious to Mercedes sarcasm, which only made her crankier. He wrote her weight down in her file. She refused to give in to the little voice in her head urging her the grab his pen and stab him with it.

"Do you have any physical ailments I need to consider?" He looked up from the folder in his hands.

"Yeah, apparently, I am really fat."

"Do you smoke?"

"Only when I'm on fire."

"Drink?"

"Whenever I'm thirsty." For emphasis, Mercedes opened her bottle of water and demonstrated. Some of the water ended up leaking out and was dribbling down her chin and onto her shirt.

"Are you on any drugs?"

"I'm on the pill. Does that count?" Mercedes felt the heat rise up to her cheeks. She was grateful that Sam was too busy writing in her file to actually see it. A widow on the pill. It practically sounded like an announcement that she was open for business. "You know, to regulate my cycles."

Mercedes started to shift uncomfortably on her feet. "Just so you know, your question sounds rather rhetorical. Are you going to pump me full of steroids?"

"Maybe if you tell me that you are going to become an Ultimate Fighter. But let us just take this one step at a time, okay?"

Sam tossed down her file and gave her a wink, figuring it was time to try a different approach. Mercedes found his wink adorable, but was still supremely uncomfortable with his overly personal line of questioning.

"As long as you don't shoot me up with weird stuff that makes me all blotchy, like whatever happened to your neck," Mercedes remarked caustically, anxious to draw the attention away from herself, even if only for a moment and at his expense. She knew exactly what had caused the mark on his neck, although she couldn't recall having seen one since Ryder first started to day Marley.

Sam's hand immediately shot up, as it has countless of times during the week. To cover the faint remnants of his last encounter with Quinn. Now Mercedes had seen it. Hell, everyone for the last three days has seen it, except she was the only one ballsy enough to say something. Thank goodness he had a shirt on. He shuddered to think what she might have come up with if she saw that his back still looked like something out of Freddy Krueger movie.

"That's very clever," he replied offhandedly. "People usually wait until after the workout before trying to antagonize me." He smiled at just how wide Mercedes' eyes got and how quickly she had shut her mouth. Score one for Hickey Man.

They started out slow, strolling on twin treadmills. Casually, they talked about simple things. All the while, Sam was observing her stance, her breathing, and just how in or out of shape she really was. He smiled to himself. She was relaxed, lucid; she was going to be fine. He stopped his waling, turning his focus solely on her. He gradually kicked up the intensity and her treadmill's incline until he saw the sweat start to bead around her neck and her breathing had become labored. He wound the treadmill back down and she rehydrated. Then he moved on with some weight lifting on machines that had pulleys, which seemed innocuously easy to Mercedes. They threw around the medicine ball. By the time that her workout came to a close an hour later, she was sweating clear through her shirt an her was all but dripping. He handed her a towel and fresh bottle of cold water that he had pulled out of a nearby refrigerator.

"You did good, kid. Have I scared you away yet?"

Mercedes took a huge gulp and a deep breath. "Do I look scared? I can't wait to try those." She pointed to the row of free-weight curling dumbbells and barbells racked along a mirrored wall.

"You look soaked," he replied, feeling the rush that came with seeing a client through a good workout, appreciative that she wasn't the type to give a thought to what she looked like. That would only rob her of the focus she needed to get into the zone. He, of course, hadn't even broken a sweat. "We have an extra ten minutes before your session is over. I was going to cool you down. If you like, we can do some dead lifts and skull crushers instead."

"Hell, why stop with the dead lifts and skull crushers? Let's add some vein rippers and lung collapsers while we're at it," she smirked. "What's with all of the scary names?"

Mercedes Jones was a real smart-ass. "This might be fun", Sam thought and smiled with satisfaction. "It's only going to get harder."

Mercedes held up her water bottle in a toast, subtly looking him up and down. "Here's hoping."

"Come with me." Sam took a step away from all equipment, waving his arm for her to follow. He walked over to a small alcove in the corner of the gym where thick, blue, cushy mats replaced the black, waffled, rubber carpet designed to absorb impact. When she joined him, he took her towel and point to the mats.

"Lie down," he said. "On your back."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm going to stretch you out,' he told her.

"For a minute there, I thought we were taking this relationship to another level." Mercedes uncomfortably laughed. She wasn't sure what he was talking about. She thought it sounded like something that happened in a dungeon and involved a rack.

'I'm waiting," he settled his hands on his hips. All business.

"I'm all sweaty and smelly", she said uneasily. She couldn't think of anything she wanted less than for him to touch her.

"I know. I got you that way. And I am still waiting."

"That's okay. I don't need you to stretch me. I'm fine."

"Who's the expert here? Now you're fine. You won't be tomorrow when your muscles are screaming. Now lie down," he repeated tersely, holding out his hand for her water bottle.

"You don't need to go all tyrant. I was trying to do you a favor," she mumbled and finally did as he told her.

"Thanks for thinking of me," he replied, having clearly heard her.

"Well, I am a very caring person." she bit back.

Once she was settled on the mats, he spread her legs and straddling one leg, he took hold of the other. Placing one hand on the heel of her sneaker and the other on her calf and he slowly began to raise her leg. When her leg was perpendicular to the floor, the hand that was previously on her foot moved lower to her calf. The hand that was on her calf moved and now rested on the back of her thigh. And then he increased the pressure.

Mercedes wanted to remain unaffected. But he was towering over her and seemed all around her.

"Try to relax. It won't feel uncomfortable if you don't fight against it," Sam said, feeling her tension.

"Relax! Is he crazy! A man is turning me into a pretzel and he wants me to relax?" Mercedes thought. She hadn't been touched by anyone in about 2 years. Now Zeus was climbing all over like she was Mount Olympus. His legs were firmly pressed up against both sides of her thigh so he could keep her leg on the mat from moving. His hand was an inch away from her backside. And her backside was mere inches away from her front side. She was still hot, but now in a completely different way. Fresh sweat broke out on her forehead. He gently pushed her leg further.

"Breathe into it," he told her.

She didn't even know she was holding her breath. He pushed a fraction of an inch more with the hand on her thigh. It was uncomfortable, but nothing compared to the feeling of the pure electricity emanating from splayed fingers.

"Breathe, girl," he ordered with a smile. "Like during takeoffs."

Mercedes took one look at the perfect dimples that his smile had created on his cheeks and let out all her pent-up air. He pushed a tiny bit farther, holding it for a few seconds. How the hell did he remember that? Those were the first words he ever said to her.

"I have a great memory." He read her mind as he stood. Then he bent her leg and moving his hand to the bottom of her sneaker. The he had pushed her knee toward her chest. "Damn, you're flexible,' he remarked, pushing her knee up farther.

"You sound surprised." She tried to sound casual. The sight of his exposed biceps flexing to maintain the pressure was making it impossible"

"More like impressed," he replied before asking, "Are you okay? Tell me if anything hurts."

"Sure, I'm fine," She lied. Nothing actually hurt, but she couldn't have been farther from okay. "I was a base."

"Your face is red," he said. "Keep breathing. Base? What do you mean by a base?"

"In high school, I was the base. Bottom of the pyramid on the cheerleading squad. My job was to hold the skinny sticks up. That's why I am so flexible. When I wasn't having cheerleaders standing on my shoulders, I would occasionally belt out a tune to pump up our routines during pep rallies and cheerleading competitions."

Sam took her bent knee and after kneeling down next to her, shifted it over her other leg. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I didn't know that you were a cheerleader,' Sam said as he was applying equal pressure so he could hold her shoulder in place and pushed her bent leg downward toward the mat, stretching the entire side of her body.

Mercedes thought she might perish from how wonderful it felt. "I wasn't 'just' a cheerleader Sam. I was a Cheerio! There's a difference! I was a part of a team that was a force of nature." She fought the urge to squirm in ecstasy beneath him. He was so very close, masterfully holding her down from above. She could smell his skin, clean with a hint of expensive cologne. He looked down from his position over her and the dimples had reappeared. She decided to keep talking in order to distract herself from the strange sensations that she was feeling.

"All led by a coach who was pretty much a tyrant." She continued. "I remember that we were getting ready for Nationals and coming up with routines. Anyway, Coach Sylvester thought the routine would be better with a live cannon. She wanted to put one of us in the cannon and shoot her out and have her fly through a flaming fire hoop."

Sam paused with what he was doing. "You're kidding me right."

"Oh no. She even went as far as testing it with a dummy. But the dummy disintegrated. The only reason why we didn't end up doing it is because the Principal finally grew some balls and put his foot down by saying that the district's insurance policy didn't cover dismemberment." Mercedes had paused for a moment before smirking, "Now that I think about it, I wonder if she is related to you?"

"Are you calling me a tyrant?" Sam asked as he continued with her stretching routine.

"Well, I don't think that you would shove me inside a cannon and blow me out of it. But you are bending me into a pretzel, so I would have to say T-Y-R-A-N-T." she spelled.

"It's nice to know that Sesame Street wasn't wasted on you." Sam said sarcastically, but there was no venom in his tone. "Besides, haven't you heard that the pretzel is a crowd favorite," he continued on.

"Only at Auntie Anne's." Mercedes grinned back.

She was both disappointed and grateful when it ended and he laid her leg back flat on the mat.

Mercedes congratulated herself on maintaining her composure, but even she knew that she couldn't take much more of that.

And when he straddled the leg he was done with; he grabbed her other leg and the exquisite torture began all over again.

She managed to withstand his repeating the process by thinking of nothing but breathing and refusing to look directly at him. In her mind right now, Sam is Medusa. If she looks directly at him, she will turn into stone. His mere being has invaded every one of her senses with every one of his. He softly murmured words of encouragement and support, and his hands overran all her nerve endings. She was certain if she actually looked into his face and he smiled at her again, she would liquefy.

Mercedes didn't see how it could get any worse. Until he sat her up, knelt behind her, and began to massage her shoulders. Sam's strong, powerful hands were surprisingly gentle. He moved her ponytail to the side to gain better access. Mercedes could feel his breath on the back of her neck. He was completely unconcerned with her drenched condition. His warm hands sensually kneaded. His thumbs pressed into his shoulder blades and rubbed. She wanted to scream. She wanted to moan. She felt as languid as if she'd just been made love to. He finally rose. He moved in front of her and bracing his feet, he had held out his hands. She automatically put her hands in his and planted her own feet on the floor. He exhaled and easily hauled her up until she was standing beside him.

"Fantastic job," Sam looked down on her, beaming.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Mercedes thought.

* * *

**Thank you for taking the time to read this!**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, the episodes after season 3's National's onward would have been so much better. Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA. **

* * *

They saw each other three times a week. Mercedes was always on time and ready to go. Each day she was there with her sweatpants, her baggy washed out T-shirt and her wisecracks. She always entered his gym with a calm, yet steadfast determination that rivaled the attitude of any of his more notable competitive clients. Her self-deprecating sense of humor was something that Sam had grew to enjoy, once he realized it wasn't real malice aimed at herself.

It was refreshing not to have to spend half of their time together stroking her ego. At times, he wondered if she even had one. It wasn't the way she went to great lengths to avoid catching a glimpse of herself in any of the mirrors that lined a full wall of the gym. That part didn't surprise him. It was more in the way that when it was time to work, she dug in. She had dug in with total focus and concentration until the set was over. Then once she recovered, she would deliver the occasional punch line. She had no concern for the rolls of fat around her midsection that became exposed as her shirt hiked up when she lifted weights above her head or bent over. She ignored the wedgies created when she lunged. She wordlessly got into every single uncomfortable and sometimes graceless position he told her to assume.

And she would sweat even more than she did that first day. So much so, that she began to bring her own towels to the gym. Now, Sam had told her that he had more than enough to meet her needs, she did it anyway. Once he found out why she was doing it, he had found it difficult to keep his professional demeanor plastered on his face. Out of nowhere, Mercedes would pull out a gigantic beach towel and lay them over the weight benches or any other piece of equipment that had a seat. It seems that she had read somewhere that it was the polite thing to do so she wouldn't "stunk it up".

Needless to say, he had failed miserably.

"It's not that kind of gym," he laughingly told her. He wasn't offended. He knew his places were lavish, immaculate and state-of-the-art.

"I know," Mercedes quickly said, looking down and pretending to examine her fingernails before continuing. Her face was flushed with embarrassment. "But I'm leaving … I'm leaving … snail trails."

"Snail trails?", He laughed again because his mind was fully appreciating the visual.

"Oh, good grief!" She snapped her head back up at him and pressed on, still embarrassed, but she was now aggravated as well. "Yeah, I'm sweating between my legs. I'm leaving a mess at anything and everything that my ass touches!"

"Mercedes, I clean all the equipment that is used before the next client arrives. It comes with the territory. You aren't the only person that this happens to. Although, you're probably the first person to ever give it such a colorful name. I'm guessing that explains why you're bathing in CK One before you arrive?"

"No," she said, trying to stay irritated, but smiling in spite of herself. "I do that because I don't want to smell like a dirty sneaker! Is it too much?"

"It smells nice," Sam said as he returned her smile with a rakish one of his own and giving her a friendly rub on the shoulder. He took her towel and laid it on a nearby incline bench. "And a welcome change from all the swamp ass I've gotten used to."

"Oh my God! Swamp ass!" Mercedes giggled as she laid down on the towel covered bench. "I bet we could make up an entire dictionary of grody gym terms."

Sam had returned with a forty-pound barbell and handed it over to her. "I'm all for it. But right now, the only term you need to worry about now is 'whoop your ass'. Come on! Give me fifteen chest presses. Now!"

From that day, he started to order beach-sized towels to accommodate her, so she wouldn't have to bring in hers from home. And she had continued to sweat buckets for him.

Mercedes spoke little about her past, her present, or her future and Sam had never asked. He chalked it up to awkwardness at the difference in their lifestyles. It was something he admired about her, but at the same time, it left him intrigued. It wasn't uncommon for his clients to go above and beyond in telling him about their personal lives. It makes him feel more like their therapist instead of their personal trainer. He kept people motivated through divorces, addictions, and scandals. He had become a master at taking the energy generated by an emotional rant and transferring it into a successful workout.

But with Mercedes, it was all about business and innocuous witticisms. Be here now! Time to work and not play! She was paying him money that in all likelihood was hard for her to come by. They owed it to each other to get the most out of every session.

However, as time had passed, Sam's curiosity grew and he had to hold himself back from asking. Her late husband's name was Anthony. She was a cheerleader when she was in high school. That was it. Those were the only nuggets about her life that she had shared.

Instead of trying to feed is curiosity, Sam worked Mercedes hard. Sometimes, it was harder than he would have done for any other client. She was a fast learner. If she ever became frustrated, he never heard her complain. In fact, she seemed to thrive on the impossibility of a chore. Sometimes he would hear her sincerely grown just before falling short of finishing a task he'd set before her. Mercedes understood his mission was to constantly raise the bar and set her up to fail. She knew if it ever actually became easy, it meant that he wasn't doing his job.

Once a week, Mercedes got weighed and as usual, she had thought of new ways to maim him. Now she would never say it out loud. Her favorite fantasies usually ended up with Sam being shoved down a flight of stairs that are located at the entrance of the building. The very same stairs, that she would climb three times a week to get to him.

About a month into her training, Sam had blurted out, "Let's talk about your diet."

At the time, she was warming up on an elliptical machine. Just to hear the four-letter word, known as diet, was enough for her to miscalculate her step and stumbled a little. Mercedes craned her head to the side until she had a good view of him. "Let's not. Frankly, I would rather do lunges." Since Sam knew that there was nothing more that Mercedes hated than to do lunges. Sam made her do hundreds of them during every session. She had hoped that he would drop the subject.

"Not an option, kid. But I will be happy to oblige on the lunges," he retorted smoothly. He knew she didn't want to have the conversation. But the time for it had come, whether she wanted to have it or not.

"I like to eat. End of story." She scowled. With that, she had gotten off the cardio equipment and was trying to think of how to get them both closer to the stairway. Maybe she could crack him upside his head with a dumbbell instead. A ten-pounder would certainly do the trick.

Sam smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you really think you got to your current weight because you like to eat? Most people like to eat. It's been reported that it's even necessary for survival. Have you ever had your thyroid checked?"

"Yes," she puffed out at him. "Right after Anthony died, I went to the doctor for a full physical. Unfortunately, I'm fine internally. Oh yeah, he did mention that I was too fat."

"With the exception of the stereotyping, overweight people have no control. That is a big misnomer. It is totally about control. Many of them are specifically using their bodies as a would-be-blockades against the very people they feel are judging them. They want everyone to like them, but instead, they are using food to cope with the feelings of not being good enough. That only perpetuates the problem and usually makes it worse. It is a vicious cycle of eating as a way to forget the pain of needing acceptance."

"I don't care if people like me," she told him.

"Oh, come on Mercedes!" Sam replied. He was determined to not let her do her usual one-liner her way out of this conversation, no matter how badly she might want to. "I don't believe you don't care if people like you. Everyone wants to be liked, at least a little bit. And despite your best efforts, you are really quite likeable. That's why it is also important to remember that most eating disorders have some sort of emotional aspect."

"So, what's the solution, Einstein?" She pressed him, suddenly anxious to end the conversation and get to lifting.

Sam took note of the switch in her demeanor. He was getting too close and she was getting ready to put her wall back up. He decided it was best to finish the tutorial for now, but not before he had covered the most important part of the topic. "Look, it is too soon to tell what sort of body you are going to end up with when we're done here. If what you have old me when we first met is true, odds are you're not going to end up looking like Jennifer Aniston, no matter how much time you spend in the gym working at it. That is just something that you need to come to terms with. It is about getting you healthy. But I want you to know, that there are five specific factors that determine fitness. Right now, you are in a firm possession of four of them."

"Really?" She stopped fidgeting and gave him back her full attention.

"Absolutely," he told her enthusiastically. "The criteria breaks down into cardiovascular fitness, muscular strength, muscular endurance, flexibility and body composition."

Mercedes interrupted with a snort. "I can see that you have saved the best for last. So, let me take a guess as to which one you think that I am falling short on?"

"Hey," Sam promptly cut her off and pointed a stern finger in her direction. "I'm not going to tolerate the wisecracks on this one. Do you realize just what a special gift you've actually been given? From the first day you walked in her, I've been impressed with not only your cardio endurance, but your muscular strength and flexibility. You don't get that stuff from just having a good attitude. Athletes bust their asses for months just to get what you had naturally from the get go."

"I feel a lecture coming on," she murmured as she began to chew on her fingernail.

"Mercedes," he said, softening just a little, while remaining firm. "You've been giving a hundred percent since day one and your body is responding to it. But eventually, it's going to adjust to the new routine. The eating is the thing that is going to challenge you and probably will for the rest of your life. I just want to make sure that you've taken stock of your arsenal for when you're feeling weak and out of control. So that you can get past it and make the sort of changes that take root at last.

"It is no accident that ninety-five percent of people who take off weight, put it back on. They get discouraged and their old habits are the comfortable and familiar one. I don't want that to happen to you. Getting in control of eating addiction isn't like kicking smoking or drugs or alcohol. Those are additions that you give up completely. Once you get through the withdrawal, you had won the war by abstaining. You're always going to need food. You just have to get to the point where you can coexist with it and not have it as a crutch to fall back on."

"Well, I guess now isn't the time for me to tell you that I have taken up smoking?" Mercedes tried to be flip, but when she saw the flash of genuine anger enter his green eyes, she had realized that it was a bad idea.

"If I had thought that you were the least bit serious, I would actually thing about throttling you."

"Geez, Sam! Lighten up. I am having enough trouble with one addiction, thank you very much. I am just trying to stop the shakedown. I am here! I am doing the workout! I am doing my thing! Why can't that be enough for you?" Mercedes was starting to get exasperated with both him and the conversation. It was getting a little too close to home and it was making her feel prickly. If Sam wasn't too careful, he would get pricked by a thorn. A swift knee to the groin would do the trick.

"I didn't mean to make it sound like I was shaking you down. I am truly sorry about that," Sam admitted. "I just know that depression is a trigger and you have been through a lot. You had to deal with things that I wish no one had to deal with. It must have taken a toll. The more that you try to reflect, the more that I know that it is there. Have you thought about seeing your doctor for it? Maybe a therapist?"

"Oh sure!" Mercedes made absolutely no attempt to mask her disdain. "Let me go blather my problems and take advice from someone who in all probability is crazier than I am. Yeah, so no thanks."

"Don't be so quick to assume there's anyone out there crazier than you," he teased. "But for the sake of argument, how about just calling your regular doctor? Surely any doctor worth his salt would recognize the depression that comes with becoming a widow."

"Why?" she asked him heatedly. "So, they can start mixing drug cocktails to keep me from feeling anything at all? Or better yet, they give me some great new drug they didn't bother to fully test and I wake up six months later growing a tail?"

"Okay, I get it." Sam decided that he needed to quickly defuse her anger. "How about this. Could you please do me a favor? I want you to start writing down what you eat. Every morsel of anything that you put in your mouth. It is not a test or anything like that. Hell, I am not going to read it. This is something just for you. And if you are feeling stressed or depressed, I want you to make a note of what you're feeling while you eat. Can you do that?"

"What would be the purpose of this journal serve?"

"Well, it would help you see the patterns in your eating. It will help you see what is triggering it. Not only that, but it will give you control. You would be able to see what your peak stress-eating items are. How much you are consuming. Are you eating enough fruits and vegetables? It is just for you and it could help you change your habits and assist you in your new health journey."

Mercedes didn't look too convinced, so Sam decided to push on. "When you notice a depressed feeling is coming on, you can try to head them off by doing something else. Even something as simple as taking a walk. Hell, you can come here to do cardio whenever you like, even if I have another client here. Just give me a call with a heads-up.

"Remember, the rules are simple. For every calorie you take in beyond the minimum your body needs to function you want to burn one out with exercise. The more intense the workout, the more calories you'll continue to burn after you're done."

There is no use in fighting Sam Evans, especially about this. He was firm in his resolve. But he also knew, that if he had pushed her any further, it would do more harm than good. In the weeks that they have been working together, he understood how she process things. He knew when to back off and when to push her further. Now was one of those times in which he should back off and let the subject drop. Sam knew that she heard him. His points are currently circulating in her brain. Now that he had said his peace, he would leave it up to her to determine her next move. So he let her marinate on his advice and they continued on with her workout.

* * *

Mercedes left that session with a surge of new motivation. Sam told her she needed an arsenal. Having gotten used to eating mostly takeout, she decided to start with a fruit bowl. Bananas and pears were her weapon of choice. Soon, grapes and apples joined in. She began perusing salad bars like she was shopping for fine antiques. She made her goal variety. Once a week, she would try a new food. At first, she tried to pick ones that she had always turned up her nose to in the past, like salmon, tofu, and hummus. Out of the three, she was still disgusted with hummus.

It didn't take her long to figure out that if she wrote down what she was going to eat before she ate it, she made better choice. The entire plan was wildly successful for several weeks. That is, until the "Milky Way Malady" struck.

Mercedes wanted a Milky Way. It was such a bad craving that it practically choked her. It should have been simple enough. She ate them all the time. But when she bought it, she realized that her journal was at home. Not willing to deviate from her strategy of "write first, eat second". So, she decided to drop the candy bar in her purse and waited until she got back to her house. The scrumptious candy bar consumed her every though on the drive home. It virtually called to her from inside the confines of her purse. She had salivated at the thought of the creamy caramel and nougat wrapped up in a chocolatey goodness. Once she got home, she made it straight to her kitchen. She pulled out the candy, opened the food diary and grabbed the pen.

Then she saw all of her healthy entries. The words written down in her journal in her own handwriting. A journal that showed that the egg white omelet she chose to eat this morning for breakfast instead of picking up a waffle at the Waffle House. The apple that she had bit into instead of a Krispy Kreme donut. Black coffee instead of a latte.

The Milky Way sat on the counter between the fruit bowl and the journal. An innocent candy bar that represented failure.

"I just won't write it down," Mercedes reasoned to herself. "Sam doesn't have to know. It is not like he was going to read my food journal anyway." Satisfied with her logic, she opened up the Milky Way and took a big bite. She slowly swirled the delicious chocolate in her mouth and ran her tongue up to the roof of her mouth so she could remove the caramel that seemed to attached itself to it. Once she had swallowed, she took another big bite.

The first two bites were everything that she thought they would be. But by the end of the second bite, it was nearly choking her. All the joy of the first bites were gone. In its place was a sense of guilt and a massive feeling of failure.

A candy bar shouldn't have the ability to ruin your day.

Mercedes decided to skip dinner that night and instead, she had dragged herself back upstairs. Once in her room, she sat on the bed and laid her head in her hands. She needed somebody to talk to. It was too late to call Marley, not that Mercedes wanted to anyway. She loved Marley, but she knew that Marley would never understand what is going on in her head right now. Marley would be supportive, but she just wouldn't get it.

Marley is one of those skinny women you hate on sight. The girl has been through three pregnancies. For each post pregnancy, with newborn baby in tow, Marley was able to stroll out of the hospital wearing her pre-pregnancy skinny jeans. Two weeks later, she's on Instagram posting a photo of her six-pack abs.

It was time for her security blanket.

It really wasn't a blanket. It was Anthony's favorite, old, green flannel shirt. She couldn't wait to wear it. She hadn't been able to fit into any of Anthony's shirts for years. But when all other doping mechanisms failed, and all the food couldn't fill the hole in her soul, Mercedes would pull it from the close, fold it up, and lie with it under her cheek. When he first died, she slept with it. She just wanted to take comfort in everything about it. It had a well-worn softness to it and the scent of Anthony that remained secured within its fibers.

She got up and went to his closet, where all of his clothes still remained. She pulled it off the hanger and held it in her hands. Then, without knowing why, she had stuck her arm in the shirt's sleeve. Then she did the same thing with her other arm. With her thin, cotton nightgown on underneath, the shirt accepted her intrusion. She pulled the front of it closed and with excited, shaking fingers, began to button it. There were tears in her eyes when she finally viewed herself in the mirror. She stared at herself in the mirror for several long moments. Now she was staring into the reflection of herself wearing a shirt deemed too small for as long as she could remember. This was the first time that she had really gotten a bird's eye view of her weight loss. Knowing that she was finally able to get into one of Anthony's shirts had increased the flow of tears from her eyes, down her cheeks and dribbled onto the collar of his shirt. She cried not only for that accomplishment, but for the fact that Anthony wasn't around to witness this.

The shirt wasn't loose on her by any means. But it wasn't about to rip either. Her breasts were unforgiving and button at the center of her chest strained. She quickly unbuttoned that one, but the rest of buttons were all secure. While the shirt was snug, it showed no signs of stress. The shirt was giving her a hug. She tilted her face towards the heavens.

"Thank you, Anthony," Mercedes whispered through her tear-filled smile.

It was quiet moments like these that Mercedes found that she had missed her husband the most.

She took the shirt off, folded it back up, and got into bed. With the shirt securely under her cheek, she had fallen asleep.

* * *

**Personally, Snickers and Reese's are my weakness, but this Mercedes likes her Milky Way. We all have our own inner struggles when it comes to dieting and changing our eating habits. But having a weak moment does not make you weak. It just makes you human. **

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all for love, likes, and just basically reading this.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, Mercedes wouldn't have handed Rachel everything on silver platter, including her daggum ex-boyfriend! You know, the guy that Rachel told Mercedes to dump. Yes! I am still angry about that.**

* * *

Sam kept his word and never asked about Mercedes' food journal, but he was certain that she had made alterations in her food choices. As of right now, they were almost four months into their workout training and she was down to just over thirty pounds.

It was a healthy weight loss, indicative of lifestyle changes and not drastic measures. Her curves were not yet obvious, but her round face started showing high cheekbones that he hadn't noticed before. The double chin was receding and she positively glowed. She didn't get overly excited by her evolution, consistently referring to each pound as "just a drop in the bucket", nor was she ever outwardly critical or discouraged by her progress. She maintained the same focused determination she had since she started. It was a winning combination and Sam couldn't help patting himself on the back. Sure enough, his duckling was well on her way to becoming a swan.

With his cell phone on the nightstand chirping happily, Sam opened one eye and looked at the clock: 12:42 A.M. He reached out blindly toward the glow of the phone. If that person on the other end wasn't one step from death, he or she soon would be. He didn't recognize the number. When he mumbled a sleepy hello and heard nothing on the other end, he was tempted to throw the phone across the room. Just before he drew it away from his ear to push off button, he heard a little rush of air.

"Sam?" A tiny voice. It sounded muffled.

"This is he. Who is this?" he grumbled. Whoever she was, he wasn't in the mood.

"It's Mercedes." She released and uneasy giggle. "I'm on my home phone. You said that I could call anytime."

He immediately sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his face. "Mercedes? What's up? Everything all right?"

There was another long moment of silence followed by a shaky, "Actually, no. I'm in trouble. I think I'm about to do something stupid."

As soon as he heard the word "trouble", the rest of her words became gibberish. Without asking any more questions, he confirmed that he had Mercedes' address in his phone and told her to stay put. He threw on a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt, jumped into his black Navigator and plugged in her information into his GPS.

It wasn't until he was halfway across town that it dawned on him that he had never asked her what was wrong. For her to have called in the middle of the night, could only mean an emergency. Was she hurt? Was she in danger? Had she been robbed or assaulted? Sam found that with each question, he had pressed harder on the accelerator. He flew recklessly through the quiet streets of Atlanta.

His GPS's mechanical voice instructed him to turn onto her street. Even in the dark, he became aware of the change in scenery. Trees lined the road and huge houses sat atop manicured hills. He saw the house number she'd given him illuminated on a sign stationed near a mailbox. With that, he turned into a long, solar landscape lit driveway. The landscaped lawn stretched to a rather impressive modified colonial. A white, sporty BMW convertible was parked in front of the circular driveway. He looked at the address again. This girl was chock full of surprises. As he pulled up next to her car, she opened the front door of the house, appearing to be completely unharmed. Mercedes was in her usual state of dress of sweatpants and a ratty tee. This time, she had added fuzzy, pink bedroom slippers to the mix. She stepped outside.

"Mercedes. What is going on? Are you all right?" He jumped out of his SUV and rushed to her side. Looking her over, he wasn't sure if he was talking about her crisis or the obvious fact that she wasn't a destitute widow.

"I'm fine. I'm really sorry to have bothered you Sam. You didn't have to come here. But please come in."

They walked through the spacious foyer and he found that the house was fully lit at this late hour. When they got to the kitchen, she let out a heave of disgust and threw her arms in the direction of the granite-topped kitchen island. "This is what is going on."

She flung herself into a chair, unwilling to meet his eye. Sam looked at the island and grimaced. On display, right next to the meticulously kept notebook that served as her food diary and a bowl of fresh fruit, was a Sara Lee Coconut Crème Pie, a box of Twinkies, a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew, bags of both Lay's Sour Cream and Onion potato chips, a bag of Reese's minis, and a pint of Ben & Jerry's chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream.

The first thought that entered Sam's mind was "She called me in the middle of the night because she was on the brink of a binge." He did know what annoyed him more: the fact that he had just become the food police or the fact that she could have paid full price for his services after all. Well she wanted his help. She will get it.

"Get your running shoes on," he ordered abruptly. Then he began to systematically returning the contents of the kitchen island to the freezer and random cupboards while she did so.

Sam took Mercedes outside and the walked briskly down her driveway. Neither of them spoke. The only sounds besides their footsteps was the late-summer crickets getting in what would soon be their final songs of the season. Then Sam started to jog. He took every uphill route that he could find and, in her neighborhood, that wasn't too hard to do. Mercedes made a real effort to keep up. After twenty minutes of trying to match every one of his long strides with two shorter strides of her own. Pretty soon, Mercedes had enough and came to a grinding halt.

"Enough! Uncle! You win! I surrender!" she slowed down to a walk. Sam had followed suit.

Sam was peeved, but he didn't want to admit it. He wanted answers, but he wasn't even sure what questions that he needed to ask. He felt out of the loop. He had felt taken, even though he couldn't recall being lied to. How could he have been so stupid? She had even told him that she had lived in Sandy Springs. Anyone in Atlanta knows that if you had a home ITP (Inside The Perimeter), it meant that you were not hurting for money. What did he think? That she had lived inside a cardboard box in front of a multimillion-dollar home? He had made the assumption that she was flat broke because of her appearance the first time that they had met. There was Mercedes, standing next to him huffing and puffing due to their last-minute work out and he childishly took comfort in that he had made her suffer.

"What's really going on here, Mercedes?" he demanded. "Who are you?"

"What do you mean? I was in total danger of eating all that crap." She tried to inhale without involuntarily shuddering. "Do you think I'm kidding you? You would want me to call if I was going to put a bullet in my head, wouldn't you?"

Sam was caught off guard. All thoughts of the mystery surrounding her momentarily suspended. He stopped walking. She seemed really serious. Would she really have eaten all that food in one sitting after all the hard work she had put in for over the last four months?

"You really would have eaten all of that junk? At once? He didn't even bother to mask his awe or even his anger at this point. What was she so willing to get in the way of her own success? Settling his hands on his hips, he scolded her. "What could have driven you to do something like that in the middle of the night?"

Even in the moonlight, Sam could see her eyes growing glassy. Reflecting its beams when she peered up at him.

"Cleaning closets," Mercedes tried to add a sad little smile, but she had failed miserably.

Sam instantly understood. His heart gave a loud thud. She had been packing up the last remnants of her husband.

"I thought it was about time, you know. It has been over a year ... almost two," she added wistfully. "I thought I was strong enough to handle it. I thought I was finally strong enough to pack him away. Sam, I thought I could do it. I guess I was wrong."

Abandoning his initial harshness, Sam turned to his professional expertise. "Maybe it is time and you just have to rise to the challenge. Your endorphins should be raging right about now and you look like you would rather vomit than eat. I could stay awhile and help you with the closet?"

Mercedes gave him such a genuine smile that he could see it through the darkness. "It is almost done. I'm down to the nitty-gritty. It is just the stuff that I can't see being recycled." The smile on her face had slowly faded.

"Come on; let's get it done," Sam said, doing his best to sound encouraging. They walked at a more relaxed pace back to the house. He followed her up the stairs and down the hallway toward her bedroom.

Glancing into another room, he had stopped short. "Mercedes? What about this one?"

The room was unlike any of the others he'd passed. This room was stark, sanitary, and sterile. From the plain white walls to the barren wood floor. The only contents of this room were a hospital bed and some other medical equipment. There were oxygen tanks and monitors. The bed was nothing but a mattress lying flat inside its adjustable frame with chrome half rails on each side. He stepped inside the room and instantly felt its sacredness. He had turned and saw that Mercedes was standing in the doorway.

Mercedes just stood there with a far off look on her face. There was a tear that escaped her right eye, but she made no move to wipe it away. She hadn't been in this room in almost a year. After the funeral, when everyone returned to their own lives, she would spend several days in it. She would sit on the bed and think. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to handle this. The day that you have been dreading had arrived and you are just numb. That is what she was … numb. She had hoped that she would feel Anthony's spirit around her. That he would give her some answers. Unfortunately, the answers never came.

To see Sam in the room was both amazing and unsettling. The ultimate positive life force was standing in the middle of the death room.

Sam broke into her thoughts with a question. "Mercedes, where do you want to start?"

"Start?" she replied totally devoid of any emotion.

"How about this? I will take care of breaking down the bed. You can go and finish up someplace else or just sit down and take a moment. Just relax." His voice was soothing. His eyes were full of compassion.

The sincerity that was in Sam's emerald eyes, managed to pull Mercedes temporarily out of her emotional stupor. "I can't ask you to do that Sam." she replied back to him.

"As I recall, you didn't ask. I offered and I am doing it okay. Just tell me where your tools are and so I could get started."

"Tools?" she repeated, confused.

"Screwdrivers, wrenches, stuff like that."

"There's a box in the garage," she said from the doorway.

Mercedes watched as Sam walked across the room and head towards her general direction. He stopped in front of her and gently grabbed her hands. "Don't you worry. I've got this. Like I had said earlier, if you want to finish up something else while I take care of this."

She felt the look of relief spreading all over her face. He knew. It was like he could feel her agony. She nodded and watched him head down towards the stairs. Once he was out of sight, Mercedes had turned around and headed towards the safety of her own room.

An empty box waited for her and automatically she began to fill it with Anthony's most personal effects. She started with the bathroom and his toiletry kit, which contained his electric razor, his deodorant, and the cologne she occasionally got him to wear. She removed all his prescription bottles. Many of them were half full and she needed to make a mental note to dispose of them properly. Mercedes pulled his toothbrush out of the holder. For over ten years, his toothbrush has sat right next to hers. It just feels strange now that it will no longer be there. Somehow, it made everything seem so final. Who would have thought that a toothbrush would make her feel so empty inside.

Mercedes quickly left the bathroom and headed back over to her room. With shaking hands, and a heavy heart, she finally emptied the contents of Anthony's treasure drawer. Only then was she able to go to her own closet and pull out Anthony's green flannel shirt. She placed it in the box. If she was going to have any hope of making it through this night, it would have to go. If for no other reason, she wasn't willing to go through this hurt ever again. She had all the mementos that she needed.

At least now she had finally understood how Linus in the Peanuts cartoon felt in "A Boy Named Charlie Brown" when he lost his security blanket.

She could hear Sam down the hall. There was the metallic clanging from pieces of the bed being taken apart. There were also sporadic grunts as he tried to get stubborn screws and bolts to cooperate. Mercedes walked down towards the sound and found that he was almost done. It still amazed her that he was willing to take on her wretched task as his own.

"Thanks, Sam," she said quietly.

"You look like you are worn out", Sam told her.

"And you look like this bed is giving you a run for your money," she countered.

"I have yet to meet the bolt I couldn't persuade to turn," he said. "Are you all done?"

"Yep," Mercedes looked at the box that she was holding in her arms. "Just have to take this box down to the dining room so it could join the rest of the boxes."

"Well, why don't you go and do that. I will join you in a few minutes with all of these bed parts. When you are done, take a moment or two just to decompress. Like I had said earlier, I got this."

A half an hour later, everything was stored in the dining room. The only thing left now was to wait for the charity organization to pick up the items later on in the day. But as Mercedes went to the kitchen to grab some bottled water, Sam had a chance to look around. In front of him, he saw boxes of men's clothes. Cloth garment bags full of suits, jackets, and dress shirts were lying over several chairs. They were packed so carefully, stacked so neatly, as if their owner was just transporting them from one location to another. But he knew that this wasn't the case. She was getting ready to say good-bye to them. Sam was confident that Mercedes had given her husband the same level of attention in death as she had in life.

Sam wandered back into the warmly decorated family room. Right before taking a seat on the cream-colored leather sectional, he saw it. A framed photo. It was on the mantel above the stone fireplace. A wedding photo of Anthony and his bride. Sam got up off the couch and strolled over to get a better look. Picking up the photograph, he thought that Anthony was average, but Sam did notice that he appeared to be just slightly older than Mercedes. Other than that, there didn't appear to be anything about him that stood out. He appeared to be of standard height, not too fat, not too thin. His hair was closely cropped and his skin was a caramel color. To Sam, it seemed like Anthony's eyes leaned more towards black than they did brown. Anthony didn't have any distinctions or disfigurements, with the exception of some horn-rimmed glasses. He was handsome in a non-descript sort of way. His tuxedo fit well. That was always a plus in Sam's book. Anthony looked happy enough, although he appeared more content than ecstatic.

He went on to study Mercedes in the photograph. She was beaming, radiant, beautiful, everything a bride should be. And she had been right. Even on her wedding day, she wasn't thin. Present were the pudgy round cheeks Sam had come to know, the full upper arms, the thicker torso he had become so familiar with. But she looked healthy. There was also no denying the fire in her eyes. The sort of inherent brightness that indicates an inner life force. The life force he had begun to see in her at his gym.

Sam looked up and was totally unaware that Mercedes had come back into the room with the bottles. She was looking at the photo too. When Sam had met her eyes, he knew right away that this time she couldn't hold back the tears.

"He always made me laugh. That is what got him the second date. He made me laugh," Mercedes whispered more to herself than to Sam. Then her voice had pitched a little higher when she had uttered "God, this is all so hard." Her voice cracked and her fists were clenching around the two bottles of water that she was carrying.

"Come here." Sam put down the picture, took a step towards her, removed the bottles from her hands, tossed them on the couch and he held out his arms.

Mercedes walked into them without any hesitation and he wrapped his arms around her. Her tension began to ease. She felt so protected, small even. She couldn't remember the last time that she had felt so small. There was nothing sexual about the hug and she finally felt the freedom to cry for the first time in about three years. She flat out refused to cry in front of Anthony. She was adamant about not crying in front of her family and friends at Anthony's funeral. The only time that she has ever allowed herself to cry is when she is alone and even then, she felt that she couldn't bring herself to completely break down. Not because she didn't care, because she cared so much. Her fear was that if really did let it all out, that she wouldn't get back up again. Mercedes would not only be crying about Anthony's death, but for the utter destruction of her life as she knows it. For the guilt that she was not strong enough to express.

Now someone much stronger was holding her up. Somebody sturdy and in control. Somebody who can handle all of the grief that she had locked up inside her these past few years. With his arms around her, she couldn't hold it in anymore. She let go. She had opened up the flood gates and released all of the pain and anguish that would have broken most. As her emotional dam broke, she could feel her legs buckle underneath her, but she did not fall because Sam was there to hold her up as she cried. He had prevented her from sinking to the ground.

He didn't say a word. He just held her up like he was her was her life line. The sounds of her pain were echoing in the room as he continued to hold her. It was a sound that he was sure that he would remember for the rest of his life. There was nothing he could do about her past, but he swore that he would be there for her present.

Sam realized that Mercedes needed a friend and he would be there for her no matter what.

* * *

**So, am I still swimming above water or am I sinking fast with this story?**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	6. Chapter 6

**So here is another chapter! Thank you again for all of your love and support. For a first time story poster, like myself, the favs, follows and reviews mean more to me than you will ever know.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, Mercedes would have slapped Rachel a few times for her snotty ways. Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA. The mistakes are my own and I wear them with pride!**

* * *

While holding her, Sam continued his silence, except for the an occasional saying of "Just let it all out" in appropriate times. Through it all, he was rubbing her shoulders reassuringly as she released all the pent-up pain that she had been going through for the past three years. He wanted her to know that he is there. The pain that she had felt had been her constant companion and it was nice to just feel like she could let go. To actually fall and to know that there is someone there to catch you.

When Sam felt that Mercedes was all cried out, he moved the bottles of water off the couch and placed them on the coffee table. Then he had guided her to the couch where she had just flopped down out of mere exhaustion more than anything else.

"Don't you wish that when the people that you love die, that all of their stuff would just disappear too? You know, to just completely vanish?" Mercedes asked and then snapped her fingers for emphasis when she got to the word 'vanish'.

Sam gave her a tender smile. "I think that it's an important part of the grieving process. In a few days, you will be glad that you did all of this. You are just not feeling it right now."

"You're right, you know." Her hands were doing their best to wipe away the tear streaks that still covered her face. "Jesus, don't you ever get tired of being right all of the time?"

Sam thought about her question for a moment before commenting. "Nope. I never get tired of it. It really is a hard habit to break."

He laughed before he got serious again. He still had so many questions for Mercedes, but there was one that he really wanted to know. "Mercedes," Sam asked gently, "where is everyone? Your family? Your friends? People to help you get through all of this crap?"

She hastened to get up and pull herself together. "I'm sorry Sam. I didn't mean to bother you with this. Thank you so much for coming and helping me out with this. You didn't have to come, but I appreciate that you did. That was really decent of you. I didn't have anyone else to call. How pathetic is that?" she tried to laugh it off, but failed.

There was at least one question he was going to get answered about her. With two hands, he sat her back down. "Oh no you don't, young lady! I'm not bothered and if I was, it is way too late anyway. I'm here and you are stuck with me. And I am sorry if the next ten minutes are going to hurt, but you're going to answer me. I've been training you for nearly four months and in that time, I've learned nothing about you. Zero! Zilch! Nada!"

"That's not true! I talk all of the time!"

Sam shot her a look that spoke of extreme tolerance, mixed with fatherly reproach. "Telling me I set the incline of the treadmill on Mount Kilimanjaro is not talking. Asking me if I can see the baby's head yet when you are doing ab crunches is not meaningful conversation. Humorous, yes. Meaningful, no!"

She couldn't help the giggle she had released and he joined her with a small chuckle of his own before taking a more serious tone and asking her again.

"Stop dodging me. Where is everyone, Mercedes?"

She cleared her throat and took an unsteady breath. "There is no one Sam."

"No one," he repeated. "Are you an orphan?"

"Not exactly." She took another breath. After everything that Sam did for her tonight, he deserved to know everything. "My family is very much alive and the last I heard, they are living in Lima, Ohio where I grew up."

"Mercedes, whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I was a change of life baby," Mercedes finally said. "My mother was almost forty-four when I was born. My father was nearly fifty. They were set in their ways by the time I came along. And they were already old."

"Fifty isn't all that old."

"It is when it comes to changing diapers and chasing after a toddler full-time. Especially when you don't particularly want to. It didn't take me long to figure out that I was little more than a nuisance in their lives." she said, her mouth forming a thin line.

Sam wanted to tell her there was no way that could possibly be true, but he held his tongue. After all, it was a miracle that he was getting her to talk.

Mercedes continued. "My parents weren't actually abusive. They were strict and stifling. They wanted quiet. They wanted to be left alone. Like I said, they were set in their ways. Those ways did not include carting a kid off to soccer, ballet, and Girl Scouts."

Sam nodded. The picture suddenly became clear. Food does not move.

"By the time I was a teenager, I realized that I had to get out of there. But the best part of being a teenager was the fact that I was self-reliant. So, I wasn't at home all that much and my parents never really cared to do anything about it.

"I'm sorry Mercedes. I didn't mean to pry. Just blame it on my curiosity."

"You don't have to apologize Sam", she confirmed. "Actually, it sounds much worse than it actually was. I guess the whole moral to the story was the fact that I was free. Stanford gave me my ticket out of Lima and a great scholarship. Student loans took care of the rest. I met Anthony and we had started to build our lives in Palo Alto. Anthony's business was going strong. There wasn't a need to look back. I had the life that I wanted. We had eight wonderful years of married life. I would say that it was just about perfect. Then he got sick and the bottom fell out." Her voice trailed off and hardened.

"But pancreatic cancer doesn't have the best rate of survival. Emory is one of the best hospitals in the world and Anthony felt that he had the best chance of beating it with the doctors there. Not to mention, with modern technology, he could work virtually from anywhere. So, we packed up bags and baggage and moved here. This is where he had died. It was bad from the moment we found out. It had spread to his liver and spine so quickly.

"My parents did come for the funeral and they did try to talk me into going back with them. But I couldn't be sure of their motives. Since so much time had passed, I had realized that they didn't have a clue as to who I was now. Worse yet, I had felt like I didn't know them anymore either. It was like I was talking to strangers, you know. Frankly, it had shocked me because it was the most parental that I have ever seen them, well with me at least. Anyway, I had told them that I was staying in Georgia. It was a decision that I had made mostly out of laziness. I couldn't tell if they were angry or relieved. So basically, Martin and Agnes Benz wished me luck and I hadn't seen or heard from them since. I'm pretty sure that I am nothing but a memory at this point.

"Wait a minute," Sam had interrupted. "Did you just tell me that your maiden name was Benz?"

She raised her chin a fraction higher and looked at him directly in his eyes before nodding.

"You had spent your entire childhood with the name Mercedes Benz?"

She nodded again.

"You're kidding me! I don't believe you. Who does that?" he kept asking, totally not caring if she had thought he considered her parents demented.

"Who does it? Quirky folks with a jaded sense of humor, obviously" she replied. "When I would complain about it, they had always told me that it builds character."

"But you have a BMW convertible?"

"Well, having a Mercedes Benz convertible would have been extremely redundant."

At this point, Sam couldn't hold it in. He had to laugh and he had laughed to the point that he was shaking. He knew that what Mercedes was confessing about her past life was rather somber, but he couldn't help it.

Mercedes had huffed a little at that, but not really. "To quote Star Wars buddy, "laugh it up, Fuzzball!". She grabbed a nearby pillow and whacked him with repeatedly with it.

Sam placed his hands up in a defensive move and she smacked him with the throw pillow. At this point, he couldn't quit laughing even he wanted to. "Sorry about that," Sam had replied back, but he wasn't the least bit sorry. "Oh my God! You lied to me! When you had first introduced yourself to me, you said that you weren't named after the car!"

"It wasn't a lie. I was told that I was named after Mercedes Ruehl. The mere fact that it tied in with my last name was a bonus according to my mother. To use an overused pun of my childhood, I wanted to put that name in the rearview mirror. I still cringe when I take a look at my high school diploma with that name on it. The greatest gift that Anthony had ever given me was his last name."

Were any of your siblings cursed with something similar?" Sam wanted to know.

"Well, I don't have a sister, just an older brother by the name of Albert. He is fifteen years older than me."

Once Sam was able to calm down a little, he asked her another question. "Going back to your earlier statement, what did you mean that you were not sure of their motives?"

"Because Albert is one sneaky bastard. He got married and moved away to start stockpiling crap in his own house. But before he had left, he had planted in my parent's minds that after college, I could return home and take care of them once they get older. The three of them had hatched a place like they were doing me a favor. After all, I wasn't exactly skinny, so who would marry me? The day that they told me what was expected of me, I had felt like I had just been handed a death sentence. Frankly, I had shocked the crap out of all of them when I got married and chose to stay in California.

"My parents didn't travel much, so there was no way that they would be willing to fly clear across the country to attend my wedding. However, they did attend Anthony's funeral. Even Albert attended. But they were not there for me or to comfort me because my husband just died. It seems that seems that Albert had convinced them that if they had come, they would get rewarded by getting me to move back up to Lima with them. That it would make the trip worth it. Frankly, I could go on with hundreds of examples, but I don't want to bore you. Besides, with that look on your face, I don't think you can handle it anymore."

"I think you're right about that," Sam readily admitted.

"Ironically enough, the whole situation made me realize just how conscientious Anthony really was. So, I am thankful to them for that. I thought he was being paranoid at the time. Not only was he an expert in saving and investing, but he was insured to the max. Probably over insured, but I think he wanted me taken care of in case something bad happened to him. I didn't even know until the reading of his will that he was in the process of selling the business. Since he had passed before the completion, it was up to me to finish it off. That was why I was in San Francisco. That and I needed to take care of some other business. For me, it was a real sense of accomplishment that I could walk away from my childhood. Anthony gave me the ability to do that. He always did. I will forever be grateful to him for that."

Sam was almost afraid to continue with his questions. But she had piqued his curiosity for so long, he couldn't stop the questions even if he had tried. "What about your friends?"

"Well, I have a few. Not too many from my childhood. My best friend is still there. She's the only person that I have ever told about what was going on behind closed doors at my house. I think that's why they thought I didn't have any friends. Even though I don't know how they could possibly think that. I was never at home. But most of my friends are out in California."

"But why such a huge house if there was only just the two of you? This house is hardly a representative of a single person dwelling. " Sam looked around the living room with its twenty-foot cathedral ceiling, rich hardwood floors, and general opulence. It was clean and completely devoid of any clutter. It was almost like Mercedes was trying to go in the other direction from how she was raised.

"Anthony bought the house out of foreclosure for maybe half of its original value the day after he was diagnosed. My husband was the type of person who had never wasted a moment. He always said that every minute counts for something because time is something that no one ever gets back. He was a genius when it came to business and investing. In fact, he was a genius with everything he had tried. Just about all of the homes that he had purchased and invested in throughout the country, were foreclosures. Up until he had died, I had left pretty much anything that had to do with finance to him. Besides, Anthony liked his space. You should have seen our house in Palo Alto. You had to go a quarter of a mile just to get to the mailbox."

"This is an awful lot of house for just one person" Sam commented.

"I know," Mercedes admitted pensively. "But I'm not quite ready to let go of the house or him. Tonight was a huge step for me. I know that we were only here together for such a short time and this house definitely isn't filled with happy memories, but I can sometimes still feel him. I still need to feel that. I still need to feel anything for that matter. So, until that feeling is gone, I won't leave him here all alone. I was hoping that finally being strong to donate his things might help speed that process along."

"One foot in front of the other," He quoted one of his favorite phrases.

"And soon you will be walking out the door," Mercedes laughed. "I guess I am not the only one who is a fan of Santa Claus Is Coming To Town,"

"Well, you can't go wrong with the Winter Warlock." Sam replied. "Mercedes, you are simply amazing."

"Hardly." She smirked. "From the day that he died, I was hot mess. I didn't give a damn about anything or anyone. Getting out of bed was a chore. I have the phone numbers to just about every restaurant within a twenty mile radius of my house memorized. DoorDash and GrubHub have become my best friends. That day that I had met you? On the plane? I had just finished closing a deal on some stock options that Anthony had. I had to almost forfeit them over to that company's new president because I couldn't even be bothered to open my mail. If Anthony's lawyer hadn't called me to remind me, that is exactly what would have happened. But Anthony would have haunted me if I had allowed that asshole to have his stock. Anthony really didn't like that guy."

Sam had joined in with a laugh of his own. He was satisfied that he was finally able to uncover some of her secrets and he was in awe that she was able to keep all of them to herself for so long. Now he had a much clearer picture of just how far back her eating disorder was rooted.

"That's why I think that you're amazing," Sam said with conviction before reaching out to meaningfully pat her knee. Then he stood up and made his way to the kitchen. He couldn't change what happened to Mercedes in the past, but he could see to it that she felt his support for her future.

"Now, listen here, you," he called in to where she was sitting. "There's something that we have to get settled before I leave here tonight."

"I guess you're going to start charging me your going rate?" He could practically hear her smirking.

"Not even close," he had responded from the kitchen. "But that is not such a bad idea."

Mercedes could hear him rustling about in the kitchen. The opening and closing of the drawers were a dead giveaway. "How about if I promise to never call you in the middle of the night again?" she called back to him.

He returned to the family room and sat back on the couch. Once he was there, he had presented her with a spoon and a pint of ice cream. "This is not the enemy." Sam held up the ice cream to prove his point. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with rewarding yourself with some treats now and again. What is not okay is going outside the box and looking at the treat as a failure and thereby giving you a license to keep failing."

Sam scooped a spoonful of ice cream and put it in his mouth. "Dammit to Hell! This is pretty good!" He looked at the container again before placing the spoon back into the delicious treat before taking another bite.

Mercedes observed his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he was savoring the taste of the ice cream in his mouth. Before she knew it, he was holding a spoon out to her and ordered her to take a bite before he would end up eating the whole thing himself. He brought the spoon to her lips and she had opened her mouth so she could receive it. The second that she did, sexual thoughts began to emerge. _Thoughts such as the most handsome man in the world has the penchant for feeding me ice cream … while naked!_ At that thought, her smile got wider. So did his, but she was positive that it was for a completely different reason.

Before they knew it, the entire pint was gone.

"See? He said, licking the spoon for the last time and dropping it back into a now empty container. "No harm, no foul. A little ice cream never hurt anyone, unless you have lactose issues. Like I had told you before, it is about coexisting. Just remember, when you dip a spoon into a pint of ice cream or dive into some cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory, you just have to work a little harder later on to burn that off. Now, I have already put away the rest of the food. But don't let me find you repeating the pile of junk food on the counter again. If you do, there will be hell to pay. Got it?"

She blushed, feeling naughty and contented at the same time. She gave him a stiff-armed military salute. "Understood Sir! But what is fair is fair. I just spilled my guts and cried a few tears. Now what is your life story? Or did Zeus just throw down a thunderbolt and you landed down by Lenox?

"Well," he said, grinning with pride, "he would have to throw down two. Don't forget my Northpoint location."

"How dare I forget that!" Mercedes replied with mocked horror.

"In all seriousness, I am a pretty simple guy. I grew up with an insanely normal life just outside of Nashville, Tennessee. My dad's an accountant. My mom teaches fourth grade. I have a sister by the name of Stacie and she is three years older than me. She's a school psychologist up near where my folks live. She's married and has three kids of her own. I grew up loving baseball. It was due to baseball that I ended up getting a scholarship to the University of California in Irvine. Playing there was nice, but I found out that I had liked sports physiology better. That turned out to be a good move. My baseball skills were scholarship worthy, but definitely not professional worthy. Besides, the longevity of playing sports is a lot shorter than sports medicine and fitness."

"How did you drift into that?" Mercedes wanted to know.

"My roommate," he replied back. "I used to help him with his strains and sprains. Before I knew it, I found myself fascinated with the human body on the whole. With just what it is capable of enduring, how it operates, and adapts under the stress of extreme physical outputs."

"You never wanted to become a doctor?" she asked, wanting to sound merely interested and not in awe.

"Nah." Sam was quick to reply with a grin. "All that extra schooling and having to be on call. Where's the fun in that?" He waited for a minute and his grin only got wider. "Although I seemed to have been on call tonight and it wasn't so bad. At least for me it wasn't. Watching you trying to keep up for about ten minutes into that run was EVERYTHING."

"So that is why you were trying to kill me? I am so glad that I was able to entertain you." she laughed as she had reached down for the empty ice cream container and spoon so she could take them back to the kitchen. On her way there, she had started thinking. She had called Sam because there was no one else to turn to. He came because she had called him, depressed and very desperate. But then again, he probably would have done it for anybody. There was nothing to read into and she didn't want to analyze anymore. Not herself. Not how a widow should or shouldn't act over a gift of friendship. Not her human Saint Bernard sitting in the next room. The only thing that she knew at that exact moment was the last twenty-four hours have left her both mentally and physically exhausted. She threw the ice cream container in the garbage and the spoon in the sink.

"I am proud of you, you know," Sam told her when she had returned to the family room. He had patted the spot on the couch beside him, encouraging her to make contact with him. She needed human contact after all that she had gone through last night and this morning. He recognized the signs that came from catharsis and she had certainly had one. She tentatively curled up next to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. He ended up wrapping his arm around her. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before he continued. "You work so hard. You're willing to try anything. I've never once had to deal with you having a bad hair day or breaking a nail. To find out all that you've had to endure these past few years, well, I feel like it's an honor to call you my friend."

When Mercedes didn't reply, he looked down and found that Mercedes had fallen asleep in his arms. Her breathing was nice and even. Sam adjusted her in his arms before he whispered, "You are my friend."

With that, Sam began to yawn and closed his eyes. Mercedes was safe. Right there in his arms.

* * *

**So Bunnies, did this night change the dynamics of Sam's and Mercedes' relationship? Sam did get his answers and Mercedes took another step in her process of trying to move on with her life. So what do you guys think?**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, the Sam Evans character from season 3 would have stuck around for the remainder of the series as opposed to the 180 degree turn around he did at the start of season 4. He went from being an adult beyond his years to (IMO) a cartoonish character. From a character that was willing to do anything, including selling himself, just so his family could have a roof over their heads and the twins could have the things that they needed, to a character that couldn't tie his shoes. For the life of me, I could never understand the reason for such a radical change in a character.**

**Anyway, let me get off my high horse.**

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA. Yep! It is just little ol' me!**

* * *

Sam woke up with a start. The sun was already up. Not a good sign. He checked the time on his phone. Six forty-five. "Dammit to Hell!" the thought to himself. He had clients at seven. Luckily, all of his appointments were up at Northpoint today. He would have to split and head right to the gym. Good thing he was already dressed. Even though traffic in Atlanta was always horrendously bad, he would be going up against traffic. No one would be heading north on I-400 until this afternoon.

Mercedes was still on his shoulder, breathing deep and even. Chances are this was probably the first real sleep that she has had in awhile. The last thing he wanted to do was wake her. He stood up slowly, doing his best not to wake her. He took the throw pillow that she had swatted him with a few hours earlier and placed it at the arm of the couch. Once that was taken care of, he had gently laid her down on the couch, making sure that her head was resting comfortably on the pillow. Next, he carefully grabbed both of her ankles that were dangling off the couch and placed them on top of the couch. Grabbing a throw off a nearby chair, he had covered her up. With one last look at Mercedes, he headed to the kitchen so he could grab his wallet and his keys. Hurrying to the front door, he opened it silently, double checked to see if he could lock it, once satisfied that he could, he had just as silently locked the door behind him.

* * *

Mike and Tina Chang were already warming up on the treadmills when Sam had arrived. Mike had his own set of keys since the day that Sam had opened. He and Sam had been friends since they were freshman roommates back at UC Irvine. They'd been two scared kids, miles away from home, and feeling homesick. They were in way over their heads and too stubborn to show it except in a small glimpse to each other.

Even when Mike's athletic star began to shine, their bond remained strong. They roomed together all four years and after Sam had expressed more of an interest in training, than in baseball, Mike began taking Sam's advice on everything from nutrition to how to get more power out of his swing. Mike went as far as to use part of his signing bonus with the Braves to finance Sam's master's degree in sports physiology at Georgia Tech. He had encouraged Sam to take the plunge and starts his own business, doing his part by floating him a hefty loan. With that, Mike became his first client and spreading the word.

Sticking with Mike Chang turned out to be one of the wildest of rides. Mike was permanently etched in the annals of baseball history at the "Golden Boy". A title that he had earned due to his Arizonian values, boyish good looks, and abs that were so defined, they could leave imprints in the snow. He was also a fantastic dancer. His YouTube videos get millions of views. There was even one of him doing a dance routine on a treadmill in his gym. But when it comes to baseball, he had the uncanny ability to smash baseballs into neighboring countries and throw them just as far. His boy next door good looks as well as his charisma and general talent made him an advertiser's wet dream when it comes to endorsements and pitching products. Females wanted to date him and guys just wanted to be him. It was too much of a delicious combination for any product worth their salt to ignore and they would be bigger idiots if they did. At this point, Mike was earning more money in endorsing products that he cares about than he was playing baseball. Even Hollywood scouts came calling. Mike was thirty six and so he was already thinking about his life once he hangs up his glove for good. People have their guesses as to what he is going to do when that time came. Speculation ran from him spending many hours on the golf course, to becoming a sports commentator for the Braves and everything in between. Even the possibility of him starring in the remake of "Bull Durham". Through it all, Mike was humble, generous personally as well as publicly, and virtuous. Simply put, Mike Chang lived up to his "Golden Boy" name because everything that he touched turned into gold.

With her exotic good looks, biting wit, and her distinctive style, Tina Cohen-Chang had put a spell on Mike from the moment that they had met in her restaurant. She gave him quite a run for his money because she had refused to be just another notch on his bedpost. If he wanted her, she was not about to make it easy. She respected herself too much to just being a THOT and she had no tolerance for anyone who would treat her as such. Mike kept asking her out and Tina kept saying no. But regardless of the no's, he kept showing up at her restaurant whenever the Braves didn't have an away game. Since Mike had become such a regular fixture at her restaurant, he got to know the employees that worked for her. Flowers were sent to her on a daily basis. After two months of dogged determination, Tina finally agreed to go out on a date, if only to get both him and her employees off her back.

But that one date had turned into two and more followed suit. In her heart, she knew that he was the one. She knew that she would never love another. At the same time, she knew that by being with him, she would no longer have a private life. She that she would make the pages of The Peach Buzz, TMZ and any other entertainment or sports publications. She knew that she would have to deal with thirsty women who would have no respect for her relationship with Mike. But Mike had made it known to both her and the world, that she was the only one in the world for her. That knowledge made it easy for her to say yes to his proposal that came almost ten months to the day that he had walked into her restaurant. They have been married for four years. In her mind, Mike was worth any privacy sacrifice that she would have to make.

Mike's abs now belonged to her and she didn't hesitate to let the THOT's know.

Now Tina was the one thing she had sworn that she would never be: a trophy wife. And it felt great. After all, he was her trophy husband. Since she had hired someone else to run her restaurant, they were inseparable. While others were betting that the relationship wouldn't last, that Mike and Tina would burn themselves out on each other, those close to them knew better.

Sam was in the know.

Sam never had a real problem with Tina's joining Mike on his workouts. She stuck mostly to the treadmill and elliptical machines while Mike worked out. Being attracted to Tina was never the problem. But wanting to apply duct tape to her mouth was. Tina was relentless in his sisterly pestering. She said that Sam was getting too old to be a player and would never find true happiness until he had someone to share his life with. She would cite countless of examples of how her happy-go-lucky husband had found peace because he had found someone to call his own. Personally, Sam thinks that her concerns has a lot more to do with his dating lifestyle and that lifestyle being around her husband than her concern for his marriage happiness. Regardless, Sam also knew that there was a ring of truth in what she was saying, but he would never admit that to her.

Once Mike Walker found something he loved as much as baseball, he really did seem complete, dragging Tina with him wherever he went if it was possible. The only part of having them in the gym together that bothered Sam was how damn mushy they were all the time. Whenever Mike took a break and she was within arm's reach, he would kiss her, touch her cheek, or patted her bottom. And her timing for being within reach was impeccable. It was enough to send a diabetic running for insulin. They were so sweet on each other; it gave him a cavity. Sam had stopped telling them to get a room a while ago. Besides, it wouldn't do any good anyway. They would be so into each other, that they would barely hear him.

But they all knew that Mike's body was his career, so when it was time to work, they all got down to business. Mike and Tina would do their best to curtail any public displays of affection during baseball season. Right now, they were in the summer thick of baseball season. Atlanta had big hopes for the Braves this season and Mike was the main reason. Currently, they are only a couple of games behind first place. But a lot can happen between now and October.

Mike and Tina looked at Sam as he burst through the door. Both treadmills stopped.

"Rough night?" Mike did a halfhearted double take while jumping onto the gym floor. Tina was infinitely more interested and turned around, leaning against her treadmill. Sam looked a wreck. He had bags under his eyes and a slight case of bed head. His shirt showed evidence of dried sweat and he didn't smell too good either. As vain as Sam was when it came to his appearance outside of the gym, this situation peaked Tina's curiosity.

"Sorry I'm late. Let's get to work." Sam held up his hand so he could do a preemptive strike. "Tina, not a single word."

"Oh, I think not," she teased, her arms crossing over her chest. It was so rare for him to have a hair out of place, much less oversleep. All of this was too delicious for words not to say something. "What could have Sam off his game today?"

"A client. Let's get to work." Sam jerked a thumb towards the leg press.

"A client who keeps you out all night? And just what sort of program is she on? Is that dried ice cream on your shirt?

"Tina," Mike broke in, tapping his expensive watch several times while Sam examined his shirt. "There's batting practice at ten. I have to be out of here by eight thirty. Playoffs, dear, playoffs."

"I guess it is safe to assume this is a new client?" Tina declared, pretending that she didn't hear her husband. After all, the playoffs were months away.

"I know what you are thinking Tina, so don't get your hopes up. She is just a client. She is just a friend."

"A new client?" Tina repeated deliberately, taking a quick look to her husband before going back to Sam. "Why are we just now hearing about her now? You don't handle female clients."

"The reason you're hearing about her now is because I was trying to spare myself the exchange that we are currently having right now. I know that nothing brightens your day more than the prospect of becoming my wedding planner. This is nothing like that." He gave up on the shirt and proceeded to take it off as he headed towards his office to grab an extra tee that he keeps there. "She's a recent widow."

"Why am I having trouble picturing a seventy-year-old?" Tina mused impishly to her husband, though she made the comment loud enough for Sam to hear.

"Maybe because she isn't seventy?" Mike said while doing several warm up lunges and then touching his toes. "I'm willing to bet that she is not even thirty."

"It's true, she's not seventy. Not every woman I come in contact with is a potential booty call." Sam told them both respectively as he returned, not bothering to tuck the new shirt into his shorts. " And she is over thirty. She's just having a really hard time."

"Hard time?" Tina let out a giggle. "Helped her out with that, did you?

"You had to go there didn't you? I like to think that even I am not enough of a dog to take advantage of a grieving widow. Besides, she is not my type."

"It has nothing to do with you being a dog, Sam. I just know how much you like your sleep. There's usually only one thing that you allow to interrupt it." Tina told him, not unkindly.

"Sleep is as important as exercise," Sam said in agreement.

"This one is less than six feet tall? Can't fit through a straw? Has a brain? She has to fall into one of those categories somewhere." Tina continues the unrelenting probe, taking full advantage of yet another slip.

Mike was beginning to shift impatiently from one foot to the other, but he still managed to snicker. Sam looked to him imploring. "Help me out here, Mike. I'm too tired to play with your wife today."

Unfortunately, Sam's fluster had raised a red flag. Sam was being way too protective about the circumstances behind his lateness. Mike was now curious. Normally, Sam never had a problem with talking about any woman that he is with. "I have to admit, you are acting a bit strange. I would even go as far as to say that you are being a tad bit defensive about this new client of yours. I'm probably going to hate myself for this, but if you're not looking to get her naked, then what gives?"

Sam realized that once Mike had sided with his wife, Sam had no choice but to comply with the inquisition or things would get worse and even more intrusive. So, he rushed through what he had hoped would be enough to satisfy them. "Well it is your fault that I met her. If It wasn't for the fact that I was nursing you in San Francisco, I wouldn't have been seated next to her on the plane."

"Excuse me, but it was a career-threatening injury." Mike tried to sound sympathetic and then promptly abandoned the tactic. "And I was bored." Tina had been forced to stay in Georgia for that trip because her father was having knee surgery. Mike saw it as the perfect opportunity to pal around San Francisco with his closest friend during the road trip.

"Wait a minute," Tina said giddily. "You met her on the plane back from that ridiculous excursion?"

Sam had thought it was best to ignore both of them and continued "We got to talking. She's a nice girl. Way overweight. Totally out of shape. Had some rough breaks. She lives nearby. I am helping her to make some changes. That's it."

"Ah." Mike read between the lines. His conclusion was reached. "She's a new Frankenstein's monster for you, I see. It has been a while my friend."

"That's cold," Sam said, feeling a bit outwitted. "You want to talk about Frankenstein's monster? It didn't even take you a New York minute to turn a savvy business woman like Tina into a spoiled brat. A woman who had spent years building up her restaurant business, only to now make guest appearances at it because she is too busy following you around the country. Besides, I prefer to think of it more like a story of the ugly duckling. Women are all beautiful once they realize their potential and live up to it."

"That analogy is so much better," Tina said, chiming in sarcastically, not the least bit offended by the brat reference and more intrigued than ever. "But I don't think that I'm buying it."

Sam thought about Mercedes' ashen face as she had stood around looking at a room full of rented medical equipment that should have been returned over a year ago. He thought about her all alone for nearly two years in an oversized house still full of her dead husband's belongings. He wasn't sure he knew how to share what happened last night with the friends he knew lived such a charmed life. He was trouble by it himself. "This one is different guys. This one really needed a friend."

It was plain to see she the change in Sam posture. He sounded worried. Tina could tell right away this was not a normal Sam condition.

"Do you think she could use another one?" Tina asked sincerely.

"Another friend? I'm not sure that she's ready for the likes of you," Sam teased her affectionately.

"None of us were," Mike chimed in, winking at his wife.

Tina wrinkled her nose in mock annoyance at her husband before turning her attention back to Sam. "Look, if you say she's a recent widow, surely she could use a bit of fun. Why don't you let us give her the royal treatment at SunTrust Stadium for the night? You usually take in a game when the Dodgers are in town. Why don't you bring her along? We'll show her a good time."

Sam considered it for a moment. The Changs were excellent hosts. And it could serve a dual purpose. Once Tina met Mercedes, she would see that there were no romantic feelings going on between them. Leaving Tina to let her imagination run wild and come to her own conclusions could end up making him miserable. Besides, Mercedes could use the opportunity to break free from the confines of that house for a while. "I think that it is a great idea and I will run it by her. Thanks for the offer."

Tina quickly turned back to Mike. "Pick a night, honey."

"Saturday," Mike replied, his impatience with the situation growing by the minute.

"Oh, and just for the record, one of the last women I dated had a PhD," Sam added.

Mike had his questions answered and he had hit is limit of husbandly indulgence to his wife. He needed to pump some iron and he needed to pump it now. He made it over to the leg press, where Sam was waiting. "The tickets will be at the will-call window. Can I work out now?"

* * *

**Without any further ado, I give you Mike and Tina in this chapter. I bet you were wondering when they were going to make an appearance. Oh boy Sam! Tina is hot on your trail. Tina smells something is going on and whoever this person is, she wears CK.**

**Sorry for the short chapter this time. The night just got away from me and I wanted to get it up.**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Thank you for reading story and giving it a shot. I am grateful for every fav, follow, and review. You are appreciated by me.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, The Troubletones would have won Sectionals and then Mr. Shue would have to come crawling to them so he could ride on their coat tails to Regionals followed by Nationals. Not once did he apologize for being an ass. **

**Once again, please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA.**

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Mercedes was nervous. She knew that parking at the stadium was going to be difficult. The I-75/I-285 corridor was aggravating when there wasn't a game. It is much worse on game days. Since the Braves had moved to Cobb County years ago, the MARTA train was no longer an option. She thought about grabbing an UBER, but that was a headache that she didn't want to deal with. Instead, she was going to pay for parking over at The Cobb Energy Performance Centre and just hoof it over to the nearby stadium.

Sam stated that he would be happy to pick her up, but she had declined. She needed a moment to come to grips with the fact that she was going out and being social. She didn't have too many friends in Atlanta and that made her self-imposed isolation a little bit easier to accept. When they first moved to Atlanta, she had spent most of her time going from one doctor to another. From one chemotherapy session to another. With her situation, it made it difficult to make friends in her new town. After Anthony died, it just made things easier for her to just stay home. Besides widowhood is definitely a buzz kill for any party and she didn't want to be that person. But she wasn't sure if she could be social anymore. If she could approach strangers and engage in conversation. This wasn't Stanford. This wasn't Palo Alto. This was virgin territory for her. For the first time in almost fifteen years, she will have to make friends without Anthony and that thought scared her.

But when Sam had explained the invitation was due to the fact that he was late to his most famous client's appointment after falling asleep on her couch, she didn't feel like she had much of a choice. It was her fault that it happened in the first place and that guilt was crushing her.

She had woken up the next morning to find herself covered up with her Dennis Basso throw and alone. She would have convinced herself that none of that had happened except an empty container of Ben & Jerry's told her something completely different. The memory came flooding back. She had told him nearly every single detail of her sad and pathetic life. However, she was grateful that she didn't tell him her most darkest secret. A secret that Mercedes didn't even want to admit to herself.

It was the fact that she didn't marry Anthony because she was deeply in love with him. Don't get her wrong. She did love him; she just wasn't in love with him. Not the kind of love that you needed for marriage. It hurts to admit to herself that she had only married him because he was the first person who asked. The only person who showed her any interest at all. He gave her a reason to make her escape.

Anthony was a kind and considerate man, but he was also quirky and a bit of a loner, just like her. But he did make her laugh and that was something that was lacking in her regular life. He was about ten years older than her and was already successful when they met. He was a guest lecturer at her economics class. A coffee date at Starbucks later to discuss some of his theories and the rest was history. Anthony was a classic left-brained over analyzer, supremely logical and willing to believe only what he could calculate to a successful conclusion. He had a Bill Gates mindset. Super intelligent. Anthony earned his masters at Stanford by the time he was twenty. He believed in the odds. That is what made him a great businessman. That is what made him a great provider. Even the way he proposed was more like a complex equation of vectors and variables than any heartfelt declaration of love and devotion. When she had accepted, it felt like she had just completed a business transaction. All and all, she had entered into a binding agreement by telling herself that they were kindred spirits who would get stronger by leaning on each other. He knew about her past and accepted her anyway. That was important to her.

They had stumbled awkwardly through life in the beginning, but they had learned to trust. Mercedes could honestly say that her love for him did grow. She was happy and she did love him in her own way. Maybe it wasn't white-hot passionate love that she saw on soaps or read in Jackie Collins novels, but it was more along the lines of a mild-mannered, dependable coupling. Anthony conducted sex the same way he did everything else … carefully programmed. It was always in bed. Always at night. Always in the same position. Always boring. There definitely no fire. No burning white hot passion. No explosive orgasms. Her back wasn't even cracked, much less blown out. It was the only thing that she knew and she had accepted it.

When she had told Sam that their marriage was perfect, it wasn't exactly a lie. It was the perfect marriage for her. It was what she needed at that time and she had no regrets over it. If she could do it all over again, she would in a heartbeat. The only thing that would change would be the fact that she would have embraced every moment. Not to postpone a thing. For those eight years prior to his illness, he really did make her happy. He didn't forget an anniversary. He didn't forget a birthday. He would even bring her white roses just because.

What they had was a steady, respectful, mutual caring that surely would have endured the test of time. Instead, they were not granted the opportunity of time. Her reality had him withering away and dying before Mercedes' eyes. He flat out refused to allow anyone else to care for him but her. Towards the end, Mercedes had resented him for that. Resented him for convincing her that as long as they had each other, they would never need anyone else. Then he just left her more alone that when she first started. She resented him for having made her assume the role of his nurse, with all the nonstop mess and anguish that came with it. Resented him for lingering on the brink of death as long as he did after he no longer recognized her. Having left her behind in a haze of hospice-approved morphine drip weeks before. She began to blame him. That his illness had resulted in the very thing that she had ran away from. She ran away to prevent herself from caring for her elderly parents like Albert wanted, only to end up having to take care of Anthony. The irony wasn't lost on her and she had resented the hell out of him for that. The only thing that was worse was the fact that she had felt guilty for resentment after he was gone.

It was a secret that she was going to take to her grave. Not even Marley knows this.

The internal battle of grief versus guilt raged within her for countless months to follow. Knowing this, didn't allow her to come to terms with neither. The presence in her house that prevented her from selling it was his ghost. His spirit was languishing and all-knowing of her inner struggle. It was a constant reminder that she had failed him. His spirit refused to help her because he knew the truth.

Sam had called her amazing the night he came to her house to save her from eating herself into a coma. Mercedes wondered just how amazing Sam Evans would think if he knew those cold, hard facts. He probably would say that marrying a man under false pretenses and then emotionally deserting him in his final hours was karma coming along and biting her big fat ass. She was forced to swallow the tears of self-pity that started to pool in her eyes, as she made the trek to SunTrust Stadium with the rest of the crowd.

Mercedes had slowed her pace once she had caught sight of him. Taking a minute to privately watch him for afar, she was amazed. Sam was wearing carpenter-style jean shorts and a blindingly white hoodie with what she had assumed was a Braves T-shirt underneath it and spotless white sneakers and ankle socks to match. Of course, he wasn't wearing a cap. Sam wouldn't dare muss up his hair, much less cover it! All and all, he reminded her more of an Abercrombie and Fitch model than a guy just going to a ball game. To think, she will be with him for the next few hours and probably the envy of every woman there.

* * *

Sam was standing on the sidewalk, casually playing with his phone when he heard Mercedes call out his name. When he spied her in the crowd, he grinned and with one more push of a button on his phone, he stuck it into one of his pockets. It was showtime.

'I can't believe that I am doing this," She smiled up at him as she approached.

"Come on. Let's go and have some fun," he replied, grinning back. "I have already picked up the tickets."

They casually made their way through the stadium's front gates and began weaving through the maze of fans toward the field level. The Changs had purchased both an indoor and an outdoor box, so that when their families came to watch, they didn't have worry about the weather. Then there was the fact that Tina didn't like being around the players' wives or girlfriends. But Mike also enjoyed hosting the families of some of the special-needs children from his favorite charities. He could do it in peace without having people think that it was just some sort of publicity stunt. Mike had told Sam once that charitable giving was more meaningful when others didn't know about it. It was something that he would handle himself. Mike never told anyone in his camp when he was doing this because he feared that they would plant a photographer to exploit the moment. Sam wasn't surprised to find that the tickets waiting for him were ten rows up from the first base line.

As far as Sam was concerned, he hoped that once he introduced Tina to Mercedes, all of those thoughts that were roaming around inside Tina's head would vanish. It had become important to him to nip Tina's suspicions in the bud. Even though he had enjoyed Mercedes company, she was his friend and nothing more. He wondered why people thought that a man and a woman couldn't be friends without some sort of romantic entailment involved. Sam looked over at Mercedes as he kept her close to him as he guided them through the crowd of exuberant and possibly drunk Braves fans, some who had foam tomahawks in their hands.

Mercedes just looked around in awe of her surroundings. The hustle and the bustle that was going on around her. The sheer happiness that was surrounding her was infectious. She had never been to a professional sporting game before. Sure, she was a cheerleader in high school and she had tagged along with her friends to the games at Stanford, but this was on a whole new level. Anthony wasn't really into sports. So, going to the Oakland A's games or the San Francisco 49'rs games weren't really a priority. He didn't even watch the games on TV. Hitting the golf links was pretty much the closest thing he did when it came to sports and even then, he only did that to conduct business.

Before she knew it, Sam guided Mercedes over to the Chang's outdoor box. Introductions were made all around. Food was ordered and drinks were poured. Sam did everything that he could to make sure that Mercedes felt comfortable in her new environment. Before you knew it, they were all waiting for the game to start.

Once the surprise of seeing Mercedes had worn off, Tina liked her immediately. Sam was right when he had said that she wasn't his type. Truth be told, that was okay by her. Tina had gotten used to trying to make conversation with Sam's dates. Sam's taste tends to lean towards the vapid and that is being kind. They were always long, tall drink of water, phony high-maintenance types who tried too hard to ingratiate themselves to Tina. They giggled too much, wore too much make-up, bragged too often, and problem didn't read a book that didn't have pictures in it. They were also blonde … they were nearly always blondes.

Mercedes was the complete opposite. She definitely was not a tall drink of water, blond, with the intelligence the size of a gnat. Instead was a milk chocolate skinned, curvy individual who didn't appear to be looking for attention. She wore almost no makeup, except for a little mascara and lip balm. Her dark brown hair was pulled back with a headband and she wore jeans and a tank top that was covered with an open cotton button-down shirt she used for a jacket and loafers. It was painfully obvious that Mercedes hadn't bothered to buy any new clothes since her weight loss, so it was hard to discern the details of her shape with her shirt practically swallowing her. Tina felt like jumping for joy. Surely it means something that this is the woman that had entered Sam's life.

It took Mercedes a while to get comfortable with Tina. After all, Tina was a pseudo celebrity and her husband was a bona fide one. Tina confirmed that Mike wouldn't be meeting up with them until after the game. That was a good thing because it would give Mercedes some time to get used to everything that was going on. Luckily, Tina was laid back and cheerful. Instead of inundating Mercedes with Questions, Tina opted to teach Mercedes all about baseball. Mercedes had already knew the basics, but took advantage of the opportunity to sit back and let Tina do the talking.

As soon as "The Star-Spangled Banner" was over and the teams went to the respective dugouts, Tina went back to telling Mercedes the ins and outs of the game. Between them, they had a great time watching, even keeping up and filling out the scorecard. Sam seemed perfectly fine that they were ignoring him. They had stopped keeping score when it became apparent that the Braves were going to lose, even though Mike didn't have a bad outing. When it was over, the three of them waited in the clubhouse for Mike to join them. He appeared a half hour later.

Immediately after kissing his wife and greeting Sam, Mike had extended his hand to Mercedes and he thanked her for coming. He apologized for not making her first Braves experience a winning one. Luckily, he was pulled away by a reporter and Mercedes was spared having to respond.

When Mike returned several minutes later, Tina suggested that they go out for a bite to eat. She wanted to do someplace quiet, away from the baseball crowd and chatter.

They ended up at a local sushi bar and Mercedes actually had a good time. That is, once she got past the intimidation of meeting the "Golden Boy" and the flood of attention that followed them as soon as he was recognized. To Mike's credit, he made sure that she had gotten past all of that by showing genuine interest in her. He knew that she was from San Francisco, so he asked her several questions about her old hometown. He had even asked her about her marketing degree from Stanford.

All of the attention that Mike was paying towards Mercedes did not go unnoticed by Sam. He felt a pang of something that he had flat out refused to call jealousy. The thought of that just made him queasy. Mike had always been a notorious charmer and had been making women blush since the day that Sam met him, including most of Sam's ex-girlfriends. Besides, Sam had no stake in Mercedes, other than a professional one. In the end, Sam decided what he was feeling wasn't jealousy at all, but indigestion from the hot dog he had consumed during the seventh inning stretch.

The more relaxed that Mercedes got, the chattier she became. Conversation flowed freely and only heated up when Tina and Mercedes took the opportunity to gang up on Sam about what a rigid borderline-dictator he was on the job.

"Oh my gosh," Tina giggled, practically bouncing up and down in her chair with energy. "Do you ever check out his face while he counts your reps? So intense and serious. He looks like a math professor!"

"It is called focus, Tina! You should try it sometime," Sam shot back.

Mercedes chimed in. "Tina, how about when you're just about to finish your set and he sort of yells, 'You got this!" He usually does it when I am on an incline bench doing a chest press with a forty-pound barbell over my head. That God he's spotting me because it is so startling that once, I had almost dropped the weight on my throat."

"Et tu, Brute?" Sam sighed at Mercedes, smiling and shaking his head.

Tina continued. "Ever tell him that something hurts? After he calls you a wimp, he makes sure that every exercise incorporates just the part of the body that you had the nerve to complain about."

"Mercedes never complains. That distinction is entirely yours, Mrs. Chang," Sam replied. "Quite frankly, even I am not sure how to work around the body part that you just called 'everything'."

Tina's response to that statement was to stick her tongue out at him.

"I don't know what either one of you is talking about. Dude is a total punk. After I'm done working out with him, I feel like I've just taken a nap," Mike commented drily, in macho loyalty.

Sam threw his head back and laughed. He was proud to take the ribbing. "I'll remember that the next time I hear your hamstring pop."

When they had parted ways at the end of the night, Mercedes thanked everyone for a wonderful time and Tina immediately invited her to another game as her guest. Mercedes eagerly accepted and they exchanged numbers. Sam's lips formed a tight line. He had the nagging feeling Tina was not convinced that Mercedes was just a client. He worried he may have made a colossal mistake in introducing them. And if Tina was making plans to take it to the next level, he didn't know where the hell the level was, or worse yet, how to stifle it. To that end, he didn't say a damn thing.

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**Now Sam has leaped straight out of the frying pan and did a perfect swan dive into the fire! What do you guys think?**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N Thank you all for your support and love Bunnies!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, all of the stories would have gotten a complete follow through instead of being started and suddenly dropped for no other reason than to give Lea more lines to say.**

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA. No matter how many times you read it prior to posting, there is always something that slips by you.**

**Happy Reading!**

* * *

A few days later, Mike showed up at Sam's to train. Tina was nowhere to be found. When Sam asked him about it, Mike mentioned something along the lines that she was on a coffee date with a friend that morning. Since Mike wanted to dive into his workout right away, Sam didn't push it any further.

But Sam had a pretty good idea as to who had pulled Tina away from her adoring husband. Sam signed inwardly. Tina was definitely on a mission. As he spotted for Mike, Sam silently was wondering what kind of hell Tina was about to bring to his doorstep.

* * *

Tina and Mercedes were sitting outside at a small wrought iron table. Without her husband, Tina received a few passing glances as other people tried unsuccessfully to place her. Since they were not able to, their coffee date remained uninterrupted. There was genuine sincerity to Mercedes that Tina was not only comfortable with, but drawn to. Mercedes had a dry wit that made Tina laugh out loud and Mercedes certainly couldn't be accused of trying too hard. In fact, to Tina, it would appear that Mercedes wasn't trying at all.

But it didn't take Mercedes long to get caught up in the excitement that surrounded Tina and everything she did. It seemed that Tina had the perfect life and was smart enough to appreciate it. While it couldn't be denied that she was beautiful, there was a natural grace that came from the total acceptance she had of herself. Mercedes wondered if it was something that she always had or if it was a recent development. Let's face it, even on Mercedes best day, she still found it hard to totally accept either the person that she was in her past or the person that she was now. Mercedes wasn't like Tina. Mercedes wasn't like Marley. Chances are, she never would be.

Mercedes and Tina had met at the local Starbucks and talked awhile. They talked about everything from Anthony to Mike and everything in between. If you had viewed them from the outside, you would have never guessed that these ladies had only me a few days ago. From the outside looking in, they had appeared to have known each other all of their lives based upon their interactions alone.

"But it wasn't about you and him at that point," Mercedes reminded her. "You had said it yourself; it had taken on a life of its own. I read some of those comments on that YouTube clip. Most of those folks were downright creepy," she said as she took a sip of her coffee.

Tina leaned back into her chair and just shrugged. "Actually, that is what helped me get over it. Have you ever seen some of the crap that you can find on the Web? Don't even get me started on all the women who began to harass Mike about their willingness to take my place. That they wanted to play Tic-Tac-Toe on his abs. He got emails and offers that made him sick to his stomach. Truth be told, Mike is not exactly a choirboy. Once I had realized the broad spectrum of depravity out there, I figured we were actually pretty normal and tame. That is, after I got over the horror of thinking strangers were going to point at me and laugh."

Mercedes was secretly amazed and relieved that she really did have something in common with someone like Tina. Of course, that was where the similarities ended. All of her life, Mercedes felt like she was getting laughed at all of the time. First by her parents, then by everybody else.

"Still, it had to have been hard," Mercedes said slowly. "I felt intimidated just by the people looking at us having dinner the other night and I knew that they were not looking at me. But then again, I'm not much of a people person to begin with. Eventually I may have to make some changes and at least find some volunteer work for mental health reasons. Thanks to Anthony, I don't have to worry about the financial aspect of my life. Luckily, I have the luxury of time and I plan on taking more of it. I just have to figure out what I am going to do next."

"The luxury of time is a beautiful thing," Tina replied.

"Don't get me wrong, I still work, but it is not at a full time capacity." Mercedes said. " Anthony was a planner. So, prior to his death, he had hired a firm to maintain his real estate portfolio. That includes his rental properties, our primary home in Palo Alto, our cabin in Tahoe and other stuff. Then there is his business. Once he had realized that it was terminal, he didn't want to saddle me with the day to day operations of his corporation. Since there were always offers for his company, he had made the decision to sell it. He didn't tell anyone about his condition for fear it would lower the price that he would get. One of the conditions for the sale is that I am to remain on the board and I would cast the deciding vote if there was a tie and I still have shares in the company. So mainly I could do all of this from my office at home and with a few guest appearances out in California."

Tina sat there and listened. She had realized that it takes a lot of strength to pick through the pieces of your life and put it back together again. "I've never experienced such a loss. Just the thought of something happening to Mike could throw into a panic. I still have dreams of Mike being slammed in the head with a line drive. Mercedes, you don't bounce back from something so awful overnight. It takes time. It hasn't even been two years."

"Well, since Anthony died, isolation has been pretty much my thing." Mercedes stated back. "I've been out of the loop for so long, my social graces are sorely lacking."

"Don't sell yourself short Mercedes." Tina told her with sincere empathy.

"I appreciate your compassion, but I should probably tell you, I gave up on people after I became a widow."

"That's a bunch of crap!" Tina replied waving her hand again. "I would never find myself so at ease with a social leper. You're recovering from a horrible life-altering experience. It takes time. And you're not running for office or in a popularity contest, so why should you go one step out of your way to make some jerk like you. You know, we're a lot alike. There's nothing wrong with being choosy about who we let into our lives. I just have to put up a better front of friendliness because of my husband. I only have a few real friends. Once I let Mike win me over, a lot of my friends wandered off. Some were jealous. Some just got on with their own lives. Then there are those that stayed. The ones that I worked with at my restaurant. Not only are they still my friends to this day, but I also consider them my family.

"But even Mike is careful about who he lets get really close to him. Sure, he's outgoing and a team player, but he also has a lot of people who answer to him. He has only been burned a few times, but it still makes him cautious. Aside from me and our respective families, the only person that he really trusts with just about everything is Sam."

Mercedes posture changed. Her eyes widened and she looked down at her own hand as she was nervously playing with the plastic lid on her coffee cup.

BINGO!

The mere mention of his name started giving Mercedes butterflies. Deep down inside, in places she'd never had before. Places that she didn't even knew existed. She had no business having butterflies anywhere when it came to the likes of Sam. But Mercedes didn't want to pretend she felt nothing about Sam anymore. She wanted to explore the crush. Learn everything that there was to know about him. Learn about things that she couldn't simply Google about. Sitting in front of her, was a walking, breathing Wikipedia of everything Sam Evans, but she was frightened to utter a single word.

But could Tina be trusted, or would she demolish the fantasy by telling Mercedes that she should set her sights elsewhere. That it is not possible to tame a wild boy.

"He really is a great trainer," Mercedes inadvertent sigh of longing escaped. It was a poorly hidden in a statement that had absolutely no bearing on the conversation.

Tina pretended that she didn't notice, but she had gotten her answer. "He's the best out there. He continues learning. He's forgotten more than most trainers will ever know. Sam's got this holistic approach that athletes just thrive on. He could be booked twenty-four hours a day if he wanted to be. He must have really seen something in you if he took you on. He hasn't been willing to fit in a new client in forever!"

"Really?" Mercedes asked. Even though she was still a bit bewildered, she was unable to stop a smile from forming at the thought that Sam actually may have lied to her to get her to work with him. "When I met him and he had offered up his services, he told me that he was trying to drum up business."

"Drum up business? He hasn't had to solicit new business in years!" Tina practically squealed with amusement. "See? Like I said, he must have really seen something in you. And he must have been right judging by the looks of you. At least I'm guessing that he is right. I mean, no offense, but your clothes look like you had stolen them off a hobo down on Peachtree near the Fox Theater. They don't even look like they belong to you."

"I - I know," Mercedes stammered as she had looked down again at her old, worn our clothes. "I didn't think it was worth getting new stuff yet. I still have so much further to go."

"That may be true, but guess what Mercedes? We're all are works in progress. It is not like you cannot afford new clothes for right now. So, when those become too big for you, you can donate them. Many organizations are looking for fashionable clothes so they could donate them out to people who are going out for interviews or need polish clothes for work at an office. You should be willing to reward yourself for your efforts today. So, what are you waiting for? Besides, you're paying all of this good money for all of this training. It is almost an insult to both you and Sam not to show off the results."

"I don't even know where to start," Mercedes confessed sheepishly. She definitely was not willing to tell Tina about her latest shopping trip to Target, where she would spend twenty-five dollars on a T-shirt and gym pants. "I don't think that I'm even used to this body yet. I have recently learned that weight loss is not only a physical adjustment, but a mental one as well."

Tina smiled. She was completely satisfied that her plan had come together so nicely with almost no effort on her part. "Well, that's a good thing about shopping. You can keep doing it until you get it right. Come to think of it, I could use a bit of practice myself."

Mercedes returned the smile. Tina was right. The time had come to display all of her hard work. After all, what would be a better advertisement for Sam's skills as a trainer then for her to look like an actual client? Since Tina looks good in everything, from her retro 60's look to the simplicity of her current outfit of jeans, a camisole and a blazer. Hell, even the photograph of her at Elton John's Halloween bash last year was fantastic. She had that goth thing down pact! Tina practically looked like a vampire. Right now, there is no better person to go shopping with than Tina Cohen-Chang.

* * *

Unfortunately, while Mercedes was ready for the change, Sam was not.

When Mercedes came into the gym the next day, not only was she sporting a new weave, styled in the form of a bobbed haircut, but the sweatpants and too big T-shirt were gone. The items were replaced by the latest workout clothes. The flared spandex pangs hugged her waist and behind. The form fitting white Nike tee commanded "Just Do It' in neon green and revealed an impressive bust. Where she was once shapeless and undefined, an hourglass figure had begun to take its place. Sam was momentarily taken aback. Then he had tried to keep himself from being engrossed in it.

"Excuse me, miss," he teased when she had bounded through the door and jumped on the treadmill after dropping a duffel bag on the floor. "This is a private gym and I already have a client in this time slot."

"Knock it off Sam," she told him, flushing with discomfort and feeling more idiotic than attractive. She turned on the treadmill to begin the quick warm-up.

"What are you talking about?" he responded energetically, making a concerted effort not keep eye contact and failing. For some strange reason, his eyes kept drifting back to her chest. "Mercedes, you look spectacular, although I had pictured you as more of an Adidas or a Ryka kind of girl. I like the new hair. What's with the bag? Are we going to have another towel debate?"

"If it is okay with you, I'm going to shower real quick here tonight. Tina and I are going to the stadium to catch the game tonight. It'll save me a few minutes."

"Of course, it's fine," he said more churlish that he would have liked. It was a good thing that Mercedes didn't notice.

Sam was miffed and couldn't for the life of him figure out why. Sure, he knew his program would pay off. He had seen the results on the scale every week. Still, he was taken off guard by the change. Maybe because he hadn't authorized the upgrade. Maybe because he had a pretty good idea as to who was behind it. Odd were pretty much in his favor that this was not Mercedes' idea.

But this was his job. His objective has been achieved. Why should he care who encouraged Mercedes to brand out and fully embrace the fruits of her labor? Still, it took a real effort on his part not to show any outward disgruntlement.

Sam had never dreamed that Mercedes' session would slowly turn into his own personally hell. It wasn't just because of her now prominently displayed breast. Without the benefit of the oversized sweats and shirt, each time Mercedes moved, he watched seemingly placid flesh twitch as distinctive muscle took its place. She was wonderfully proportioned, something the T-shirts and sweatpants had successfully camouflaged. Her backside was tantalizing and heart shaped. It was so perfect; you could lay a tray on it and it would not fall over.

Mercedes pulled, stretched, and grunted. Her focus completely on the exercises he had placed before her. He was doing his best to ignore his newfound fascination with her. The guttural sounds that escaped from deep within Mercedes as she summoned the strength to lift weights in a set now began sounding more sensual. Sweat socked through the shirt, down her back and between her legs. Her hair was no longer concealed in a ponytail, was falling free in a dampened disarray.

It was worse than any aphrodisiac. Reacting to Mercedes was unexpected. He would have to get his testosterone in check.

Still, he couldn't help but be proud of her. This was a victory that they had every right to share in or was it?

When Tina came into the gym near the end of Mercedes' workout, Same felt himself becoming annoyed all over again. He took a quick look at the clock on the wall.

"You want to stretch? I can see that your date is here," he said to Mercedes as he did a nod of his head in the direction of the door. The both looked at the entrance and waved at Tina.

"I feel pretty good," Mercedes replied, grabbing her bag off the floor and heading towards the changing room. "I can stretch myself out tomorrow. I'll be right out," she called over her shoulder.

Sam felt his jaw start to clench. He was in the middle of deliberating whether he was pissed off at Mercedes' cavalier departure from an important element of her workout or relieved that she would be leaving that much quicker and he wouldn't have to touch her.

"Doesn't Mercedes look great Sam?" Tina remarked as the door closed and forced him to end his internal debate before it had reached its final conclusion.

He narrowed his eyes in Tina's direction. "If you work the program, the program will work for you Tina. You know this."

"You know, you really do have a phrase for everything," she laughingly replied and then added, "I know you're a professional and all that, but I really expected you to show a bit more enthusiasm. You have to admit, the new hairstyle alone is pretty astounding. You should have seen the glee on the face of my hairdresser once he got his hand on her hair. Care to join us?"

"I can't take in a game tonight," he told her, starting to return all the weights Mercedes had used during her session to their designated spots. "I have another client tonight and at six o'clock tomorrow morning."

Tina didn't even bother to mask her disappointment. "Come on! We'll have you home by midnight. I can guaranty that your coach will not turn into a pumpkin because you will be tucked into bed way before then. We won't even go out to eat, I promise."

"I just told you, I have another client in fifteen minutes," he said curtly.

"You can meet up with us afterwards,"

"Sorry kid, but I can't tonight," he told her testily. He grabbed the towels and the cleaner bottled from where he had kept them and began to wipe down the equipment that Mercedes had just used.

"If you insist," Tina said with a sigh. Then she had decided on a different tactic. "Maybe we'll go out after with one of the guys from the team."

"Just remember," Sam said, pointing at the door that Mercedes had just left out of. "Your new friend in there isn't used to being the center of attention. You may not want to throw her into the deep end of the pool too quickly."

He had reacted and she didn't miss it. Tina smiled sweetly. "Oh Sam, don't be silly! I'm not going to throw her anywhere. I just want to introduce her to some of the guys on the team. Unless, of course, you think that it is a bad idea or if you mind yourself."

"Why would I mind?" Sam said a little too quickly. "Unless you're really up to something."

"What would I be up to?" Tina asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Trying to make me jealous maybe?" he stated simply all the while, spraying a workbench with disinfectant and promptly wiping it clean.

"You're not the jealous type, remember."

Sam stopped what he was doing and took a quick look at the changing room door to make sure that Mercedes was still securely inside. He took a step closer to Tina and lowered his voice. "Maybe because of the not-so-subtle makeover attempt?"

Tina managed to look aghast, but was secretly overjoyed. He had noticed. "That almost sounds like this is about you. Sorry to rain on your My Fair Lady parade, but even you have to agree, it is time for Mercedes to start living again in the real world. I just it should happen sooner rather than later. And what makeover? She only got some gym clothes that fit and a much-needed new hairstyle."

Sam went back to what he was doing. He was afraid that she was getting a little too close to the truth. "You forget. I know you. It's something you would do secretly hoping that you would get a reaction out of me."

"Did it work?" she blatantly asked.

Sam went back to cleaning the weight equipment. If Tina even sensed his recent inner turmoil, there would be no stopping her.

"I just don't want you filling her head with ideas that aren't going to happen," he said flat out refusing to answer her question.

"Thanks for the clarification. My mistake. I'm glad that you don't mind". Tina said, going over to the closed door and giving it a loud knock. "Come on Mercedes! If we get out of here soon, we can wander around near the field during the batting warm-ups."

"Why would I mind?" he muttered. "Just do us all a favor. Please keep her away from Aaron McAllister. He's got more notches on his bedpost than Hugh Hefner. She's my friend and I don't want to see her hurt or needing a round of penicillin."

"Eww! That's so weird! Mike said the same thing. Not that either one of you had to. You can read 'creeper' written all over Aaron's face from the minute he says hello. I was thinking more along the lines of Troy Miller. Recently divorced and kind of shy like Mercedes. He's terribly cute and if I remember correctly, his ex-wife was the crunchy-granola-earth-mother type."

"Which is your nice way of saying that she wasn't a supermodel. Did you ever stop to think that maybe that is why he had gotten a divorce?" Sam said with a jeer. "Maybe Troy realized that he could trade up."

It was Tina's turn to frown. "Do you realize how shallow that sounds? I'm going to pretend that you didn't say it and attribute your bad manners to my badgering you. Then again, maybe you realize that Troy might actually be interested in someone like Mercedes and you are just trying to convince yourself that Mercedes isn't really all that attractive."

Sam had the decency to look ashamed. "Go with door number one and consider yourself on my last nerve. It was a rotten thing to say. I admit it. But I am starting to feel smothered by your best intentions. Mercedes is my friend. Why can't that be enough for you?"

"Because deep down inside, I know that it is not enough for you," Tina told him with absolute confidence. "You're just too stubborn to admit it."

"I'm stubborn? I guess I should take your word for it. You are the walking definition," Sam said. He simply hated the fact that her plan had worked. The last hour was proof of that. "I realize that you think that you're helping me here. But please Tina, I am begging you. Just let it be?"

The answer to his plea came with the opening of the changing room door. Mercedes had stepped out. She was wearing white jeans with a lilac colored baby doll shirt and strappy wedge sandals. The pants were snug by the way that they were clinging to her thighs and hips without gaps or bulges or panty lines. The shirt, with its little puffs at the shoulders, exposed her now well-toned arms and enhanced her ample breast before cutting in just below them and flaring out over her newly indented waistline. The familiar scent of CK One that normally surrounded her was replaced with an expensive perfume that was lighter, fresher, and sexier. The smell was tickling his nose and he had felt a slight tightness in his pants. Her newly hairstyle was gelled back and had that sexy wet look attached. Her pretty lips glistened with a touch of gloss. She gave Tina and Sam a shaky smile. "I'm ready to go."

Sam swallowed hard and he was desperately trying to ignore the movement in his groin. As they walked out, he told them to have a good time. Only after he was sure that they were gone, he had made a fist and proceeded to smack the speed bag with it.

* * *

**Uh oh! Someone is a little jelly! I wonder if green is a good look on Sam? Thank goodness that Tina managed to convince Mercedes to embrace her new sexy. Tina is definitely not a stupid cupid. She is a very sneaky cupid and she is play Sam like a violin.**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N Thank you all for the love!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, it would still be an ensemble show instead of the Rachel Berry Hour.**

** Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. Besides, my magical wand that searches out and destroys errors is broken. That, and I am not using a BETA. **

* * *

Tina was relentless. She threw Mercedes and Sam together whenever she could. Braves games, dinners, movies, or whatever suited her fancy. Sam decided early on that as long as he didn't pick Mercedes up, pay her tab every time, and take her home or kiss her goodnight, then it wasn't considered a date.

That was Sam's logic and he was going to stick to it dammit!

And truth be told, Mercedes was an excellent companion. She even broke up the tedium of Mike and Tina's public displays of affection, often joining him in covert grumblings of shared irritation at their sappiness. But the more Tina worked her angle, the more Sam found himself acting as chauffeur and pretty soon, he started picking up her tab too. The more that he had thought about it, the more that he had wondered what it would be like to lock lips with Mercedes. All pillowy soft and satisfying.

Sam started calling out of the blue to invite Mercedes to the movies, especially if a new Marvel flick was playing. Sometimes he would just call and check to see how she was doing and how her day went. It seemed so natural, the ebb and flow of their daily routines meshing together around their common goal. Mercedes was always happy to hear from him and she never burdened him with drama or endless transparent flirtations. She really didn't know much about sports other than her limited knowledge of the Braves, but she didn't mind learning about them either. She was willing to experience anything that he had suggested with childlike wonder. It was almost like she had made a resolution to say yes to everything. Open a new window, open a new door kind of thing.

Basically, it was like having another guy friend, except every now and then he had thought about what it would be like to have sex with her. Usually by the end of her training sessions, thoughts of him having sex with her plagued his mind. It was taking more of his concentration to get through her stretches. As soon as she obediently got down onto the mat, he could almost hear her body, firmer now and better proportioned, warm and glistening from her exertions, calling out for his touch.

Her sweat-saturated hair began to paint a picture in his imagination of how she might look after having been voraciously sexed up or just getting out of the shower. It became a struggle to keep his eyes from wandering to the perfectly shaped triangle of moisture that had built up between her legs and now seemed to invite him to bury his face there.

The rationale to his un-professionalism and obsession was simple, Sam told himself. Mercedes was the first woman he'd allowed into his life who didn't want him sexually or otherwise. There were no catches or hidden agendas. She was perfectly contented with his mentoring and friendship. Personally, it was the friendship that he had enjoyed the most. It added an allure to her that he was sure he could learn to ignore. He just had to wait it out.

It was a Thursday night in early September. Mike was enjoying a night off and invited Sam to join him and Tina at a local pub near their home. They could shoot pool and have a few beers. The tavern was small and intimate, with an outdated pinball machine in the corner as well as a jukebox filled with songs that spanned decades beside it. A well-worn dartboard hung on the wall. Although it was clean and tidy, make no mistake, McDuff's was a dive that always carried with it the faint scent of keg having recently been dumped and then mopped up.

The Changs have been going there since stumbling across it by accident after moving into the mansion Mike had customer built three years ago. A scouting expedition, as Mike would call them. It would be a destination less drive that he would take whenever he had a few days in a new town. Mike had thoroughly believed that some of the best places in the world are places that you found by accident. He would rent a car and forgo the GPS, get in, and just drive. By doing this, it feed his occasional need to have solitude. In his car he was guaranteed the privacy he sometimes craved but couldn't attain. Once Tina began to join him on the road, she would ride shotgun and together they would venture out to explore all the tucked away nooks and crannies the world had to offer. When they found McDuff's, it was like finding an oasis. He and Tina spent several hours that night chatting up the owner, who remained tight lipped about their sudden appearance and suggested to his regulars that they do the same. It became the go-to place where they could escape Mike's celebrity status and still go out and relax.

If Mike was terribly surprised when Sam came through the door with Mercedes in tow, he didn't show it. He looked briefly to his wife, who bestowed on him a gloating smile.

"Well that just saved me a phone call," Tina whispered to Mike as they approached.

As the couple approached, Mike greeted them. "So, Mercedes, he had talked you into slumming it with us tonight."

"Oh, I don't know," Mercedes responded as she set her purse onto the bar and taking a quick look around. "This place has a down-home feeling that I could learn to love."

Tina seized the moment immediately. "See Sam? Not every girl needs to be stepping out of a line in a high-rent district.

"Yes, Tina," Sam sighed and threw in an exaggerated look heavenward. "You prove it to me time and time again. Just when I thought the last perfect girl was taken, I was about to aske Mike if we could have you cloned."

"Not on your life my friend," Mike wrapped an overprotective arm around his wife's shoulder and pulled her to him. He planted a kiss on her forehead. "There are just some things that are one of a kind and aren't meant to be shared."

"I think if you took them both to Utah, you might be able to make it happen," Mercedes said.

Tina laughed at Mercedes remark and added "Nah, everybody knows that I don't share." then she had turned her attention to Sam. "Are you up for looking stupid at pool Sam? Mercedes, do you play because we can always play doubles?"

"I don't," Mercedes admitted. "That was one part of the college experience that I had missed out on. I could try, but I know for a fact that I would be a liability instead of a help."

"That settles that," Mike said gallantly. "I'm going to sit this one out too. But I will take on the winner."

Tina blinked up at him, wide-eyed and innocent looking. She leaned into him and placed her lips on his. "Keep an eye on him Mercedes," Tina gave Mike a little wink before turning and sashaying her way across the room. Sam rolled his eyes briefly at Mercedes, turned around and mimicked the sashaying that Tina just did. He could hear Mercedes laughing at his antics.

Mercedes and Mike were left at the end of the bar. A few other patrons were scattered about, but all of them knew Mike as a regular. After they say hi, they were inclined to give him some space. Mike and Mercedes leaned against the bar and watched Same and Tina try to psyche each other out as she racked the balls on the pool table and chalked up a pool stick.

"You know that it is going to be okay," Mike said quietly.

"Oh, I know," Mercedes turned her head to him and told him quickly.

Mike continued in the same quiet tone, outwardly fixated on the game that was taking place no more than twenty feet away from them. "I see the way you look at him now, especially when you're sure he isn't watching."

"Is it that obvious," she asked, her face clouding over with trepidation. "Well, I guess there goes my career as a wannabee actress. I won't be getting the Best Actress Oscar anytime soon."

"Well, it was obvious to me, so I know that award will go to somebody else," Mike replied back. "You are now so different from the girl that first met a couple of months ago."

Mercedes felt herself blushing under his warm gaze. It is moments like this that she was grateful for her dark skin, so no one can see her embarrassment. Mike was so handsome, yet different from Sam. It was an approachable attractiveness that in the beginning Mercedes was able to work up a resistance to after her initial curiosity with him. It would have been easy for him to be conceited, but she was surprised to find he was gentle and unassuming, conscious of everything going on around him. She had spent so much time in his presence these last several months. She had been very careful to never view him as anything more than her new friend's adoring husband. But now Mike's focus and attention were solely on her. Mercedes had no choice but to acknowledge him. With his appealing, knowing smile, a stark realization had entered her head. He wasn't just making small talk and he wasn't trying to pry. He totally understood the predicament that she was in. Everything that she had heard from Tina and witnessed from a safe distance was true. Mike was open minded, caring, and had a true romantic hear. That if Mercedes had lied to him about where he wanted to take this conversation, he would be disappointed with her. And disappointing a man, who genuinely wanted to be her friend, would be the last thing that she wanted to do.

"But change is a good thing, isn't it?" She tried to sound confident. But as she recently found out, she stunk as an actress.

"Of course, especially when it comes to doing something for your health," Mike willingly agreed. He had turned his attention back to the pool table for a moment. Tina was just calling an across-the-table shot. He watched her bend over to line up her aim. As if she had felt his gaze upon her, Tina gave a discreet look over her shoulder, made eye contact with him, and with the tiniest upturn of her full lips, Pulled back the cue. As soon as Tina made the shot, Mike turned his attention back to Mercedes. "Sorry about that. She knows watching her play pool makes me crazy. She is so in for it when we get home."

Mercedes felt a twinge of envy. Tina had this man openly confessing that she drove him to the brink of insanity.

"The only person that I ever managed to make crazy was myself," Mercedes murmured.

Mike let loose a laugh. "Good one! Tina keeps telling me that you're hilarious."

"What has Sam told you?" she blurted out, her eyes darting briefly to the pool table and back. Since she had figured that the whole jig was already up, she could drop the 'I don't give a damn" charade.

Mike had stopped laughing, but the smile on his face had remained. "Ah, yes. What has Sam told me? I guess the real question would have to be, what hasn't he told me," he wondered out loud.

Mercedes immediately regretted asking him that question and made a very valiant attempt to take her words back. "I don't mean to stick you in an awkward position Mike. I know that he is your friend. You have no loyalty to me and that is fine. Just forget that I had asked anything."

"Now hold on a minute, little lady. You're not even letting me answer the question," Mike stated plainly. It was then that he had turned his back on the game, took a seat on the stool, and leaned forward a little so he could get the bartender's attention. He then gave a quick wave of his bottle to Glen, the bartender, that indicated that they were ready for some fresh beers. Glen was mild mannered, pleasant looking blue-collar type in his early thirties. He took care of the Changs and Sam for their tips, not for their celebrity status. It was only a matter of seconds before four fresh bottles of beer were set down in front of them.

"I leave this two unopened, Mike," Glen told them.

"Thanks, Glen," Mike replied after laying a fifty-dollar bill on the bar.

Turning his attention back to Mercedes, he had proceeded to talk. "I've known Sam for almost half of my life," He took a sip out of his new bottle. "Certainly, the best parts. Not sure if I could have gone the distance without him. We have a lot in common. We enjoy seeing the results that come with hard work. We know that we have been blessed in our lives and that we're the only ones who can be responsible for our own happiness."

"That's a good way to be," Mercedes replied after taking a swig of her own beer.

"Of course, it's easy to take that approach when you have a lot of good luck," Mike said. "If you are willing to roll with the punches, you find yourself getting punched less."

"What is it with all of you overachievers and your inspirational phases. First Anthony, then Sam, and now you." Mercedes had blurted out, knowing that it was the alcohol that was making her feel bolder.

"Uh-oh," Mike laughed, taking note of her now half empty bottle and her newly found cynicism. "Are we going to have to worry about you growing a pair of whiskey muscles and throwing down?"

"No," Mercedes had drained her bottle and set it down on the bar. "I just think you two must have spent a great deal of time reading Deepak Chopra or Tony Robbins.

"Well, Sam and I did take philosophy course together at UCI, but I didn't really think I was paying all that much attention," Mike mused.

"What happened to jocks needing a few liberal arts classes to earn credits to graduate?"

"Actually, I think I lost a bet. Either that or he had dared me to become enlightened. Maybe a little of both. At any rate, I am pretty sure I had aced the course with his help. My approach to life has always been a lot simpler than Sam's. I've always been a 'go big or go home" kind of a guy. While Sam has always been a bit more cerebral."

"Now, that I believe," she had remarked.

"Except for the 'no pain, no gain' theory," Mike said finishing off his beer and opening another bottle left on the bar for himself. "We're both subscribers to that one."

"That one doesn't surprise me either," Mercedes told him drily.

"I like to think we strike a good balance with each other,"

"And I had always figured you two were cut from the same cloth." Mercedes reached for her fresh beer. She had said too much and she knew it. Right now, she was one or two snarky comments away from insulting the man. To quote Jamie Fox, she was going to blame the alcohol.

But Mike didn't appear to even being on the verge of being offended. He looked at her kindly for a minute and then said, "About some things, maybe, but not everything.

"Like what?" Mercedes asked because she wanted to know.

"Like women," He smiled at her again. "And that's probably half of your problem."

"I don't understand Mike."

Mike paused and Mercedes could tell he was giving some thought as to what he was going to say. "Before I had met Tina, I was with a lot of women. I figured it was expected of me, so of like it came with the job of being a professional baseball player."

"And that was so different from Sam", Mercedes thought to herself.

Mike continued. "But each woman I met, or hooked up with, had a unique specialness. It wasn't always about instant attraction. Of course, I had to be attracted in some way, but the definition of that was broad. She didn't have to look a particular way, but she had to fit a certain mold."

"I think the word that you are looking for Mike is type. It is okay. You can say it and I won't be offended."

"Okay, type. I didn't have one. The only type that mattered to me was the type of mood I was in. Sam? Not so much. It was always a certain type of look that caught his attention and for as long as I've known him, he has not strayed from it once."

"And I'm not it. I'm fat. I'm black. I'm short. I have a fucked-up home life." suddenly the realization had hit Mercedes with a thunderous jolt, that if she wasn't sitting down on a stool, her ass would have been on the floor because her legs would have given way. "That is what I get for asking the question. Be careful for what you wish for because you may get it."

"No. You're not. You wanted honesty and you got it." Mike told her gently and then said, "But that is that very fact that had me so curious. You are not his type, but he is interested."

"How so?"

"Well, you're, here aren't you?" he asked her meaningfully. "I certainly tell him to bring you. Tina didn't ask him to bring you. Sam is always careful with who he brings around to us, and yet here you are. I only called a friend to see if he wanted to join us for some beer. Not that your company isn't always a welcome addition." Chase added with a grin.

"And you think that all of that means something," Mercedes couldn't help but grinning back. Her smile was brighter than the lights in the bar.

"I'm not really sure," he told her truthfully. "I know how fond Tina's become of you and that a lot of the times we've gone out have been due to her. But tonight, does leave me wondering."

Mercedes sat there in silence while she was letting what Mike was telling her absorb into her system.

"This is what I do know. Sam has always been a bit of a scoundrel when it comes to women. Getting attached to a woman was never a part of his play. He has never stayed with any woman long enough for their food to get cold on their plate. I am pretty sure that the only person that he has ever given a Valentine's Day gift to is his mother. It is like he recognizes what he looks like and thinks that his supposed to be this playboy. We don't spend much time getting into each other's business, but I don't need to be a rocket scientist to figure out his rotation of girls either."

"Why are you telling me all of this Mike?" she whispered.

"Because of the way you sound right now," he whispered back.

"Why do you even care?" She looked up at him with a sadness she knew reached her eyes.

"Because I think that after everything that you have been through, you deserve to be happy, even if it is not with Sam."

Mercedes blinked and tried to swallow the bile that suddenly built up in her throat.

Mike continued sympathetically. "And I am thinking that having him so close is probably getting a little rough for you. He is getting all the perks of this friendship, while at the same time he is ignorant that your feelings have changed. You're playing along because you are not willing to risk exposing yourself and losing him. It appears to be a no-win situation. But you know, sometimes not getting what you want is getting exactly what you need."

Mercedes tossed her head back, looked up at the ceiling and uttered, "Here we go again! More Dalai Lama-isms."

"Blame the Rolling Stones for that one," Mike chuckled. "But in all seriousness, I think that you're strong and probably stronger than you give yourself credit for. I've watched you do a complete turnaround using only your sheer determination. Even if Sam didn't give you a leg up with your transformation, I know you would have done it without him eventually. But if this relationship with Sam doesn't go exactly in the direction that you want; it doesn't mean that it isn't worth it. He is a good guy to have your side. His lack of interest doesn't mean that you're not worthy or that you aren't a damn, sexy woman."

She blinked at him again, but this time, it didn't take any effort to start smiling. "Thanks Mike."

"There's so much potential in you. It is plain as the button nose on your face. You just remember that. Just because you may not be right for my single-minded friend, it doesn't mean there aren't plenty of men out there would fall in love with you in a heartbeat, because they are. You are worthy of love and you will find another one again. Just give it time."

She stared at him completely speechless. Never in her whole life had anyone spoken to her like that, not even Sam. Certainly not Anthony. Forget about her parents. It didn't even matter that the words came from someone completely uninterested in her. They were sincere.

"Mercedes, about what I said, please tell me that you had understood everything that I said," Mike asked.

Before Mercedes could even answer Mike's question, Tina came up from behind them. "Understand what?"

"I'm guess that you lost," Mike had asked her as he had completely ignored her question.

"Yes, I did, but don't change the subject," Tina interjected. "What is Mercedes supposed to understand?"

Mike smoothly redirected the conversation and thus saving Mercedes from any possible stuttering. "I was simply reminding Mercedes that she needs to be wary of scoundrels out there looking to take advantage of young, attractive widows who have a few dollars in their pockets."

Mercedes just sat there in awe of his smooth lying technique and just nodded in agreement.

Tina seemed satisfied with his explanation. She turned back to Mercedes. "He's right you know."

"I also wanted her to know that there are a lot of genuinely nice guys out there and she should work on recognizing the difference for when she is ready to get back out there on the dating circuit." Mike continued.

"Oh, he did, huh," Tina slowly retorted.

Sam had gotten tired of waiting for Mike so show up and play their pool match, so he had walked over to his three friends and caught the last part of the conversation. "Did what?"

Tina was more than happy to furnish Sam with the answer to his question after passing a disgruntled look at her husband. "Mike was just telling Mercedes all about the nice guys out there for when she is reading to get back on the dating scene. Maybe even giving Tender a try." Tina smirked.

"Really," Sam replied offhandedly, while secretly wanting to advise his friend in no uncertain terms to mind his own business. He jammed his hands into his pocket to pull out some money and cover the round. "I'm curious. Just how would a thoroughly married man and a recovering man-whore qualify as an expert on that particular subject?"

"Did you just refer to my adoring husband as a man-whore?" Tina asked. She was torn between getting really defensive or laughing her ass off.

"Sam shrugged. "Man-whore, baseball player, same difference."

Mike's amusement was unmistakable. "You haven't called me that in years. Are you drunk?"

"Not yet," Sam answered back.

Glen came over to the group and listened as Mike and Sam bantered back and forth before he had asked a responsible question. "Did I hear the word 'drunk'? Does anyone need me to call for a taxi?"

"No Glen, we're good." Mike said good naturedly. "My wife and her friend here were just hoping to see Sam get that way. What they don't know is that a drunken Sam, while good for endless punch lines, is a god-awful sight."

"Why would a guy want to get drunk anyway when he's got a pretty lady to take home and impress?" Glen mused aloud.

"Oh, he doesn't have to impress me," Mercedes quickly said in hopes of saving both herself and Sam any embarrassment. "I'm already impressed with him. Besides, we're just friends."

Glen promptly stood back up. "Hold up. Wait a minute. Sam, this isn't your girlfriend?"

"No," all four of them replied at one, but each voice had a distinctly different tone.

Glen laid both his hands on the bar, taking in the widely varied expressions on all four faces before resting his gate on Mercedes and smiling. "Well, well, well," he said slowly. "Ain't that something?"

Mike was the only one to actually answer back. "Yes, yes, it is." he smiled.

* * *

**Oh boy! Sam Evans is slipping down an unfamiliar slippery slope courtesy of Tina pushing him down that hill! Now he has to witness someone flirting with Mercedes right in front of him!**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Thank you everyone for the love!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, there never would have been the joke confusing Mercedes with Unique. Both individuals are talented by their own right. That tasteless and vulgar joke was completely unnecessary. **

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA. My Word Perfect decided to take a mental health day.**

* * *

The silence on the car ride home was deafening. Mercedes wasn't used to it. They always had something to talk about. Whether it be sports, news, places that they wanted to visit, or whatever, there was always communication between them. Every time they get in the car together, Sam always turns the radio on low to whatever station suits his mood at the time. But on the ride home, the radio was on silent. There was such an edge to his mood, that she didn't feel like putting the radio on either. At this point, elevator music would be more welcoming instead of this agonizing silence.

It was the first time they had done any sort of drinking together, even though Mercedes did not consider his two beers actually drinking. She, on the other hand, had gone way beyond her usual and that had left her feeling disadvantage. Her talk with Mike earlier had really got her thinking and she is not quite sure what she should do with the information that Mike had shared.

"Is everything all right?" Mercedes finally asked.

"Of course," Sam replied brusquely. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason. You just don't seem like yourself. A little quiet."

"Sorry, it has been a long day," he said quickly as he stared straight ahead. "I'm pretty tired."

"We could have left earlier."

"And ruin your good time?" Sam said with a hint of sarcasm. "I wouldn't hear of it."

Was she drunk and acting sloppy or was he just tired and she was reading way too much into it? Granted, more beers were consumed than she normally did, but she could still remember everything that happened. So, Mercedes concentrated on not slurring. "I wasn't having that good of a time. Don't ever jack up your schedule on my account."

Mercedes leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. The silence resumed for several more minutes before Sam finally broke it.

"So, the bartender certainly took an interest in you," he said casually.

She straightened back up. "Glen? Yeah, he was nice."

"You two looked like you were getting pretty chummy."

"Why? Because he bought me a shot of … what was that stuff called again?"

"Goldschläger."

"Yeah. Goldschläger. It was yummy. Did you know that it had real flakes of gold in it?" Mercedes recalled the sweet cinnamon schnapps that wend down smooth and then set her insides on fire.

"It is also like ninety proof," Sam replied. "Let's see how much you like it tomorrow when I am whooping your ass all around the gym."

"He bought us all one," she said, ignoring his comment about how she would pay for it in the morning.

"We tip him like fifty bucks every time we're in there. This was the first night he ever did anything like that. I can only assume that he did it just to impress you."

"I guess that explains why you had refused yours?"

"I'm driving," he said, his voice bordering on reproach, as if she should have known. "It was nice of you to drink mine for me."

"I don't like to waste perfectly good alcohol."

The silence resumed again. So what? She had a couple of shots and three beers. Mercedes stole a sideway glance at Sam as he concentrated on the road. Sweet Jesus! His profile was just freaking incredible! Why did he have to be so damn perfect? Always so self-controlled. Why couldn't he have let down his guard, gotten drunk, and maybe even made a pass at her that they both could regret later? Instead, they were having a conversation like none they have ever had before. It almost seemed as if he were accusing her of something. Worse yet, that he had disapproved of her actions. The thought of that being possible had hurt her more than she had cared to admit.

"Guess you'll be seeing him again?" Sam tried to sound indifferent, but even in his own ears it didn't sound too convincing.

"What makes you say that?" she immediately asked.

"Well, you did take his phone number."

"He offered it to me and I didn't want to appear rude," Mercedes explained.

"And you don't think that it is rude to take a guy's phone number and not call him?"

"Are you saying that I was being rude? That I am a rude person?" Mercedes snapped at him. Now the hurt that she was feeling earlier, was replaced with indignation and fire.

"I just think if the guy felt comfortable enough to give it to you, he must have thought there was a chance that you would use it."

"Or he is a horn dog who gives his number to every girl that he meets." She laughed.

"True," He laughed along with her nervously. "I guess the real question then becomes, how many horn dogs' phone numbers will you be collecting?"

"Wow! That statement that you had just made is way off base. You are pretty much saying that I am a slut because I took one phone number." She bit back. Now the fire that was burning inside her head and soul had now risen to be a full fledge inferno.

"I just think you're new at this and you need to be careful or guys might get the wrong impression."

"Now you are really making me sound like one," Mercedes said defensively.

"Sorry. That was not my intention," Sam tried to backtrack, knowing that he was failing at coming to grips with as to why he was so antagonistic.

"I can't tell if you're concerned or just flat out insulting me! But I will tell you this, I have only been with one man in my entire life and I happened to end up marrying him. So, I am far from a slut! My reputation is far from something that is scribbled on a bathroom stall."

Sam tried to clarify. "I'm just saying, guys don't usually give their phone number out unless they think they stand a chance of seeing some action."

"Have you looked in the mirror lately because you did!" She was quick to reply. "Were you hoping to get some action?"

"That's completely different. You and I have a business arrangement. Besides, this guy totally isn't your type."

"I don't have a type," she replied, muttering under her breath, "Unlike some people I know."

"Somehow I can't picture you on the back of a Harley with Glen the tattoo-loving bartender."

"Well, when you put it like that, maybe I will call him because that sounds like fun. And what is your problem with tattoos?" She responded with sarcasm of her own.

"No problems here. Whatever floats your boat." He strived to go back to casual, knowing that it wasn't working out too well.

"Geez! Tired and beer makes Sam really bad tempered," she said jokingly. Mercedes was going to try her best to follow his lead and lighten up the exchange. She needed to squelch this fire.

They went back to awkward silence. Mercedes wished that if she had done something wrong, Sam would just come out and tell her. He had no problems telling her if she was doing a life move wrong, so why can't he vocalize about this? At least Sam was nice about it. By the time he had pulled into her driveway, she only knew one thing. She needed to put some distance between them, at least until she had sobered up. She was on the verge of doing something she was going to regret and regret alone.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he reminded her as she got out of the car.

She made sure the door was closed before releasing her pent-up frustration and snapping, "Unfortunately."

* * *

Mike Chang, unbeknownst to any of them, had inadvertently created a monster.

Tina did follow Mike's order and stopped the push of the nonstop invites, but only because she realized that she no longer needed to extend them. Mercedes had become a permanent fixture in all of their lives, but Sam's in particular.

Mercedes had taken her conversation with Mike's to heart and decided to heed his advice. If Mike was right, and by all accounts he was, what good would it do for her to pine away for Sam? To pine for a guy that was allergic to commitment. She was a relationship person. She is not one of those, "wham, bam, thank you ma'am" kind of person, not matter what Sam had said earlier. She was not a slut and Sam could stick that assumption up his left cheek and smoke it for all that she cared. He certainly never showed any interest in her. If anything at all, he was like an overprotective big brother. At best, it would be an awkward, bungled attempt that could only end in disaster if by some miracle they got together. And she had no intention of putting their friendship in jeopardy. After all, she had so few friends and the ones she has, she had cherished them beyond measure. Nasty comment from last night aside, Sam has been a wonderful friend to her and she didn't want that to go away.

She was rebuilding her life and Sam was a major part of it. There is no way of getting around it.

Mike's approval and support was like a tonic, but Mercedes was also eager to find other sources as well. After the night at the bar, Mercedes felt empowered. When she took Glen's phone number, she knew she would never call him, but it was of little consequence. With the bartender's interest came a feeling of desirability and that was something that was all to new for her. She began to view herself differently. Her smile came easily. She had a newfound pride in her appearance. This new revolution has enticed her to explore and enhance her femininity. She wanted to learn about fashion and develop her own style. Since Tina practically has a black belt in shopping, there was no better person to go to when it comes to conquering Bloomingdales.

Now Mercedes would never have Tina's exotic beauty, but she had soon realized that she had her own kind of beauty and she just needed to enhanced her strengths. So, to figure this out, she did one of the hardest things that she has ever done. She stripped herself bare and stood in front of a full-length mirror. The naked reality that was Mercedes Jones. The truth was staring at her in the face. It was a truth that she was finally brave enough to face. She had examined every part of her so she could figure out what she could enhance and what she could minimize.

It was a moment of self-discovery. It was something that she didn't know that she needed until she actually did it.

When she finally had a discussion with Tina about what she was looking for, Tina had picked up her phone and reached out to her personal shopper, Santana Lopez, to assist her in the project. When she had gone shopping earlier with Tina, it was just to pick out some new workout clothes and a few casual outfits. Now she was looking for a whole new wardrobe change. Mercedes was determined to put her past behind her and forge on with her new life. A new life, comes with a new wardrobe.

With credit cards in hand and her accountant on alert, Mercedes, Tina, and Santana tackled Lenox Mall with full gusto. Trying on various styles did help her decide which outfits enhanced her new shape and her new curves. A style that was sexy, but not slutty. She wanted it to be classy, but cute. Her closing became sassy, colorful, and carefree.

Against her better judgement, Santana convinced her to join the world of Spanx. When she was hesitant, Santana explained that Spanx is more about smoothing and looking good in your clothes as opposed to the torture chambers of girdles of the past. Santana even went as far as to show Mercedes her's and Santana was a size two. She stated that everything starts with the foundation. It also helps with your posture. Tina agreed with that knowledge and suggested that she needed to get some sexy underwear to go with the new clothes. Mercedes was not surprised that Tina had an account at Victoria Secret.

From there, they all went over to the Macy's beauty counter and Mercedes let them spend hours playing with her face. Everyone agreed that her doe eyes and her sensual lips were her best features. Taking that as a guideline, they chose coloring and style to highlight those features to make them pop. The beautician explained each of the products to Mercedes and taught her how to apply everything that they put on her face. She learned which foundation closely matched her coloring. She learned how to pluck and shape her eyebrows. Mercedes became one with the eyebrow pencil because up until now, she only used it if she was looking for something to write with. From cat eye to smoky eye and everything in between, Mercedes got an education on the difference between daytime makeup and nighttime makeup.

By the end of the day, her mind was swimming with all of this new information. As she stood in her house, surrounded by bags of clothes, boxes of shoes, and beauty items galore, she realized that she has never had so much fun in all of her life. It was a new experience for her. It was freeing. It felt good.

Look out world! Mercedes Jones is here!

* * *

Without having Tina to fight against, Sam hoped to resume the comfortable camaraderie that he had Mercedes had previously enjoyed. He was still preoccupied with her, but it had a new dimension. He relished the new positive aura that surrounded her as each day brought with it the promise of the new and interesting things, she would discover about the person he had helped her become. He wanted to be caught up in the rush of her realizing all that she had accomplished.

But Sam was also having trouble accepting the attention that Mercedes had begun to receive from other men. Her new self-esteem drew people to her. He was quick to tell her all the reasons every man wasn't right for her. Her response to his mostly unwarranted assessments was to become defensive. With Mercedes not willing to tell him how she really felt and Sam not willing to acknowledge he felt anything at all, they unintentionally started to build a battlefield.

Mercedes had developed a giggle Sam knew was false. She batted her eyelashes at men who admired the view. She engaged in playful conversation with would-be suitors, even when Sam was standing right next to her. She never failed to mention that Sam was nothing more than a friend when she was asked about him by these strangers. She wouldn't give out her phone number, but she took a few. It appears that she was determined to prove to him that she knew how to handle her own life. For Mercedes, it was a bonus to see how much it all irked him. All of Sam's attempts to get Mercedes to tone it down were met with the shrill, bogus, silly laugh he was rapidly learning to despise.

But worse of all, she began to back-talk him while she trained. She questioned his judgement and debated his choices. She chatted more and it took the focus away from getting what he wanted done in time. It quickly soured any sense of accomplishment he felt on her behalf. He was so frustrated with the whole mess. He had unintentionally complained to Mike one day. It was right before the playoffs. To his total surprise, Mike was less than sympathetic. An attitude only made worse by the fact that Tina had once again forsaken him in favor of spending time with Mercedes.

"Project hit the skids, Sam?" Mike snickered. "Not working out the way you planned?"

"Not exactly," Sam admitted reluctantly.

Mike chuckled sarcastically. "And you're surprised by this? Sam, I gotta tell ya, you're a tool sometimes too. A full-on tool!"

They had been friends for a long time and Sam owed Mike a lot, but this was getting personal. "Care to explain that?" Same tried to keep from sounding as angry as he had felt.

Mike released the bar from the lateral pull-down machine and the weights ended up banging together with a loud clang. He grabbed his water and took a few sips. "You wanted it both ways, man. By doing that, you just keep getting farther and farther way from either of them." Sam clenched his jaw and pursed his full lips together.

Mike took a deep breath and continued. "You are so adamant about how she's not your type. How you're just doing your good deed for the day, yet you've spent more time with her than your last five "girlfriends" combined. Saying no to spending time with her never enters your mind. It's like you don't want her, but you don't want anyone else to want her either. What exactly are you looking to accomplish here? Want to see what you can get her down to do? Waiting for her to become anorexic? Perhaps, the perfectly formed Stepford model? So far from a real, feeling person that she has to practically eat, sleep and live at your gym? So, you can show her off to your friends? So, you can say, "Behold my creation"? So, you can be freaking Frankenstein? Turn your ugly duckling into a swan? Oh, and one last thing while I am on this rant: the look on your face when she flirts with anyone else is comical. Guys who don't care about that extra twenty pounds are putting you to shame. In truth, I must say that it is pretty damn priceless."

Sam opened his mouth to protest and Mike held up his hand. "And don't blame Tina. You and Tina both created this mess and I only know one thing. I want my wife back. In the past five years since I have known my wife, she had never even bothered to learn the names of your various dates, much less wanted to hang out with them. For the past few weeks, Mercedes has spent more time with my wife than I have! The ironic thing is Mercedes is not even your girlfriend, yet she is the closest thing you've ever had to an actual girlfriend in almost 20 years."

"I've had girlfriends before," Sam countered back.

Mike didn't even take a beat to respond. "That is where you are wrong my friend. Those that you had on your arm were not girlfriends. Those were bed warmers. There's a difference."

"What's the difference?" Sam asked, even though he was scared of his answer.

"There are emotions involved. You were never emotionally attached to any of them. That is until now."

Sam chose to let that last part slide. No point in arguing with the man since there was a grain of truth as to what he was saying. Instead he gave a disgusted bark. "Anyway, back to the earlier topic. I wasn't even going to say that! I was going to say how proud I am of Mercedes and how I feel like this is somehow my fault! So why don't you just shut the hell up and take your wife back?"

As Sam was yelling at Mike, he started to ask himself when exactly did Mercedes become such a touchy subject? Probably around the time Sam started recalling some joke she told, hours after the fact, and laughing again. That would have been right around the same time he began noticing the faint scent of her sweat mixed with CK One, even when she hadn't been at the gym all day. When he would smile just thinking about the little things, she did that were so damn delightful. Like the way she would worry her lower lip as he explained something new that they were going to try that sounded extreme. Or the way she would silently bitch out a weight machine with hands waving and fingers pointing when his back was turned. She was completely unaware he was watching the whole scene taking place in a mirror. The same mirror where he caught her pretending to manically stab him multiple time in the back with an imaginary knife while he was picking up the weights. That as the same day he admitted that he just enjoyed working more on the days when she was training, or at least he had up until recently. Before she became a stark, raving vixen.

Or maybe, just maybe mind you, it was the same time he stopped wanting to see other women. Instead opting to fantasize about what it would be like to feel Mercedes writhing and moaning beneath him, wrapping her legs around him while he took her over and over again. One thing was certain: it was time to admit he was in trouble when it came to Mercedes Jones. But when Sam returned his attention to his friend with an apology on the ready, he saw that Mike was merely stroking his chin, as if he was examining his options.

"My wife is right, isn't she? This isn't just a game for you anymore. You do have a serious thing for her, don't you? DAMN! I hate it when she's right. She's never going to let me hear the end of it."

"I hate that fucking giggle! It is like Mercedes knows that it pisses me off," Sam griped and returned to the subject at hand. "And the way she talks to me when she trains now," Sam said, truly injured. "She read a couple of books and suddenly she's an expert on fitness. Everything is a debate! You know I hate that more than anything. I went to school for six years. I have a master's degree for Christ's sake!"

Then a lightbulb went off above Mike's head. "Mercedes is only doing all of these shenanigans to get your attention. I say, give her some. Plus, it'll serve as a small reminder of just what happens to little girls who insist on messing with the big boys."

"Sam shook his head. "But she's not little. And you're making her sound like a child that needs to be controlled."

Mike smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Well, she is sort of acting like one now, isn't she?"

"Maybe it's from all of the time that she has been spending with your wife?"

"Maybe and heaven help you if that's true. Tina has it down to a science. But either way, the brat in her is now present and accounted for. If you don't get this handled soon, she will walk all over you. You are the trainer. It is up to you to train. I am sure that you will find a way to resolve this issue."

And with that, Mike got back to his training session and Sam got to think.

* * *

**Currently messing around with chapter 12. I am trying to decide if I should re-write the entire chapter, keep some of it, or just let sleeping dogs lie and not add my usual flare or change up the dialogue. Regardless of what I decide, I will have it up at around the usual time tomorrow. Scouts honor!**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: After some debate over this chapter, I had decided to let sleeping dogs lie so to speak. To that end, I had pretty much typed this chapter verbadam from the novel. Unlike previous chapters, I only made a couple of line changes, but that is basically about it. I didn't take as much of a creative license as I had in previous chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, Glee would have ended with the season 3 finale. Leave on a high note. If there was still a slight Glee crazy after the finale, then created a few specials like Saved By the Bell did and time them to air during sweeps month. **

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA.**

**Happy reading!**

* * *

Who was it who said the dumbest plans are hatched from the most reckless of decisions? If wasn't Sam, it should have been. By the time Mercedes showed up for her next workout, he was so pumped up by Mike, he had to hold back from grabbing her as soon as she walked through the door. He assumed the stance of a lion getting ready to spring, waiting for his prey to make their final mistake.

She made that mistake within the first ten minutes.

After Mercedes' warm-up, Sam retrieved eight-pound dumbbells from the rack and brought them over to where she was standing. "Okay, let's start with some alternating lunges combined with hammer curls."

"You have a million dollars' worth of equipment here and you have me doing more lunges again," Mercedes commented dryly. " And not for nothing, but I can really handle a ten-pounder."

Sam said nothing and instead dropped the weights and grabbed her arm. He swiftly sat on the nearest bench and tugging, sent her sprawling over his knees. Before she had an inkling of what was happening, he began to spank her. He never said a word, stood up, took her with him and set her back on her feet.

Mercedes promptly slapped him in his face.

Shocked doe eyes met livid green ones. She didn't look too chastised. She looked mad as hell. She reached around to rub her stinging backside. "Are you nuts? What was that about?"

Mortified, Sam rubbed his cheek. You could see her handprint clear against his clean-shaven face. "Guess I didn't do it hard enough." He said trying to laugh it off.

"If you did it any harder, the only reason why you would be touching your face would be to help you spit out your balls."

He was grateful she was willing to make light of what was easily one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. The next time Sam saw Mike, he was going to deck him as hard as Mercedes just did.

After the debacle, Sam decided that honesty was the best policy. Even a partial honesty was better than no honesty at all. Anything would be better than the tension that was in the room at the moment.

"You've been driving me crazy! If you want to start a man collection, I can't do anything about that. But you've been questioning my authority in this gym nonstop for weeks. And not even the usual wise-guy stuff that I have grown used to. You're condescending, like I am one step from being your pool boy. You may be new and improved, but that doesn't make you the educated expert. Even though I technically work for you, when you come through these doors, when you are in my house, I am the boss."

All the anger left her. She had been so busy trying to get him to notice her that she never realized that she was turning into the kind of person she herself would get annoyed with. But worse than that, she was making him feel like he is second-rate at his job. It was unacceptable. Her shoulders slumped. "I just want to show you how strong I was getting. How grateful I am for all our hard work. I'm really sorry. I never meant to make you feel like that. I was just kidding around." The gloomy little voice was back and Sam felt like he'd just been slapped again. He did what he knew he did best: he opened his arms to her.

"Come here."

She was hesitant to go to him, for more than one reason. Not only had he just assaulted her, but she wasn't sure a hug from him would be enough. She didn't want this friendship anymore. It wasn't working for her and it hasn't for a while. She had never counted on becoming addicted to his touch. Addicted to his very presence. All the attention from other men meant nothing to her, regardless of her pretended interest in it. They were just a measuring tool to compare against. And her being "new and improved" didn't mean anything to him. Mercedes was finally willing to acknowledge that she had been doing all of this for him. All he was doing was his job and she gave him attitude. He told her she was driving him crazy, but not the kind of crazy that Tina mad Mike. The way Mercedes made Sam crazy was by being a complete pain in the ass.

With her head down and her feet that felt like they were made of lead, Mercedes took a few steps over to him. Those steps were filled with embarrassment and shame. As soon as she was wrapped in his arms, heard his heartbeat and smelled his Drakkar Noir, she started to cry. Sam held her tight as she struggled with the fact that she could never express to him precisely why he was the cause of her tears. Like a good friend, he had kept his promise. He helped her break some bad habits. But who is going to break her of him?

She had to get ahold of herself. When he heard her hiccup several minutes later, he chuckled.

"Guess I can't charge you for this session, can I?

She laughed weakly and looked up at him. Guess not. But I'm sure there's something I could see you charged for?"

He cupped her face in his hand and tilted it up before smoothing the hair away from it. "I'm really sorry Mercedes. I'm not sure when or how this got so out of hand, but I was out of line. Look, I will make you a deal. No more challenging me during a session. Unless something is hurting you, you do what I say. In turn, if you want to try something new, you tell me before we get started. If it fits in with the plan, we could try it. If it doesn't, I will see if I can work it into your program for the next time." He added as an afterthought. Sam grabbed the side of his jaw, "And I say we implement a 'hands off' policy, because I thing you may have to shake a tooth loose.

Through her tear-filled eyes, Mercedes giggled. He knows that giggle. It was real.

"We have a deal?" He smiled at her.

"Deal," she told him. Her voice still shaky from the guilt that she was feeling.

Sam looked down at her. Her button nose, her doe eyes that were filled with gold flakes that could only be seen in certain light were beyond fascinating to him. Then his gaze settled on her full nude colored lips, parted ever so slightly to cat her breath until her stuffy nose cleared. He did the only thing he could think of. The thing that he wanted to do for way too long. He kissed her.

His warm lips, so tenderly placed on hers. At first it was a surprise to Mercedes, and her mouth formed a tine "oh" before opening wider to receive his. The kiss deepened. Her heart accelerated as he aggressively required more. His tongue darting across the corners of her mouth before delving inside. His hands working their way down her back to pull her closer. She allowed his tongue full access to her mouth before gently sucking at his lower lip. Her hand looping around his neck, tightening, and without thinking she began to grind against him.

He pulled away long enough to smile at her pout and he took her hand. Stepping over the medicine balls that were on the floor, Sam lead her over to the blue cushy mats. Then his lips returned to the soft skin of her cheek, her ear, her neck. Her hands began an exploration of their own. Running from his shoulders down cut lats and delts to his taut buttocks and back again. Increasingly daunted by the encumbrances of his clothing. She wanted to touch each and every inch of him. To taste every part of him. To cherish every moment of him. Impatient, Mercedes pulled the T-shirt from the waistband of his shorts in an effort to get to his skin.

Sa brought his mouth back to hers. Having missed her kiss and wishing he had more than one set of lips. He grabbed the neckline of her T-shirt and gave a forceful tug, ripping it nearly in half.

"You can have mine," Sam murmured into her mouth and pulled again, ripping her shirt off completely. Her bra quickly followed.

"I'll take it," Mercedes whispered back and leaving his lips just long enough to pull his shirt over his head. Exposing his washboard abs was a triumph and launched her in resuming her discovery of the spectacular physique that had obsessed her since she first saw it on his Facebook picture. His skin was smooth and warm. His mouth was delicious.

Forcibly, he brought them both to their knees and then laid Mercedes down. Swooping his mouth onto her one more time before making his way to the valley between her ample breast. His thumb and forefinger toying with already hardened nipples. His hand gently squeezing the lush swells. He suckled and her sigh bubbled over from his temperate nipping. Her fingers were traveling up his triceps and reflexively digging in.

Sam pulled himself away from her and stood. Mercedes watched, tingling with rapidly escalating arousal, as he pulled off her shoes and sent them flying through the air, landing somewhere in the main gym before he kicked off his own and removed his shorts. She took in a breath and held it. He was superb. He was everything that she'd envisioned. His thick sex was already starting to spring up. He stared down at her and licked his lips. Her statue of David had come to life before her and its eyes were burning with desire.

Joining her on the mats, he laid her back down, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her spandex shorts. Cool air rushed across an already damp mound as he pulled them off.

She lay before him, exposed and unabashed. Mindless of her imperfections. So, consumed by sensations reawakening within her combined with her need to be touched by him again. He was able to explore her freely. Unfamiliar with intimacy combined with extra flesh, he caressed muscle over bones with soft cushioning to protect them, curves leading to valleys of supple, sweet-smelling skin. He felt his control start to fail. Sam was eager to taste her. His lips and tongue following where his hands led. Her womanly moans of gratification only pushed at that control. It left him wanting more. When he reached the junction of her thighs, she drew her breath in sharply as he pulled back and with his fingers, mercilessly toyed around the velvety rim of what seemed to her to be her very existence. He inserted two digits inside her, his thumb remained to tease the sensitive bud hidden just inside her folds. Mercedes' leg spread wide, her back arched, and her hands pounded on the mat where she lay as his strong, manly fingers built a rhythm of slow, sure strokes and measured rubbing until it was clear that she was about to come undone.

And then he watched. And felt. Her body stiffened and then lurched. She convulsed around his hand and his name became an ongoing chant. She gave herself to the pleasure without inhibition. Not caring that they were on a mat in a gym. She didn't care that the door was unlocked and that they could be interrupted at any moment. She didn't even care that she had stretch marks, love handles, and cellulite. He was welcome to witness it all. When she said his name for the last time, in a languorous, spent coo, he felt his erection get painful. He straddled her at the legs and made his way up her rounded body with lavish kisses to her neck. He felt her fingers running through his hair and then coming to rest carelessly on his shoulders.

"Sam?" she said dreamily, vaguely recollecting where she was and what he had just done. "I think I may need some clarification on the hands-off policy?"

"Clarification?" he asked incredulously before capturing her mouth again with his own and spreading her legs with his knee. He picked his head up to look down at her face while driving forcefully into her. "Any questions?"

* * *

**Well, the secret is out! This chapter had SMUT! Since I am pretty much not a smut writer, you now know why I chose to write this chapter pretty much word for word from the author. So all smut credit goes to Stephanie Evanovich. I have read my fair share of SamCedes FanFiction. There are plenty of writers who are good at the smut like Amber2011, Zeezack, LadyJ ,or Annikay. Unfortunately. I am not one of them. I am woman enough to admit my own faults. LOL!**

**I apologize for the short chapter, but I felt that this deserved its own stand alone chapter.**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thank you for the love. I am eternally grateful for every favs, follows, reviews, and viewing drivebys. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, I would have given anything that Chord Overstreet wanted so he would stay on for the start of season 3. Maybe if that happened, SamCedes would have been stronger. Maybe their storyline wouldn't have been dropped. Maybe there wouldn't have been a Shane ... the biggest casting mistake of all time. I swear he looked old enough to be Amber's father.**

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. Just like my flaws, I take full ownership of my mistakes. That, and I am not using a BETA.**

* * *

"Found it!" Sam exclaimed as he pulled Mercedes sneaker from underneath the weight bench. He was still in awe as to how it managed to roll that far. He strolled back to the stretching room and stopped in the doorway. Mercedes was still standing on the mat. She was busy pulling his shirt over her head so she didn't see him. His clothes looked good on her. His hands had looked good on her too. When she didn't respond, he tossed the sneaker onto the mat beside her. "You're not going to believe where I found it. I don't think I've made a throw like that since I played baseball. I guess I should be lucky that I didn't break a window.

"Thanks," was all she said. Right now, she was deliberately avoiding his eyes. She was just grateful that he hadn't arrived a moment sooner. If he had, he would have caught her smelling his clothing like a schoolgirl attempts to fix the memory even though she would never, ever had forgotten that experience. She picked up the sneaker and began to putting it on. At this point, she would do anything so she wouldn't have to look at Sam. That includes making it look like putting on her shoes was the most fascinating and complicated thing in the world.

"Hey," he called to her softly. "Look at me." He waited for her to meet her gaze, which finally did, but there was a hesitation there. "Why are you suddenly so shy?"

Mercedes felt the flush creeping up to her cheeks. He was just so damn handsome, so damn charming, and too damn comfortable with all of this. Once again, Mercedes was grateful for her dark skin, otherwise he would be able to see the effect that he has on her.

"I was just trying to remember if I read anything in our contract about this sort of thing." she replied back.

"It's in the fine print." Sam grinned at her. "Check the back."

"I'll bet," she retorted acerbically, returning to realigning her shoelaces by yanking on them. "Glad to see you cover all your bases."

"Mercedes," he crooned to her, fully aware of the sudden and drastic change in her disposition. He walked over and sat down beside her, giving her shoulder a nudge with his own. "This is not the same woman who ten minutes ago was gasping my name. What do you think is going on here?"

"Nothing at all," Mercedes replied as she was still trying to tie her sneakers. She flat out refused to be sucked in by his charisma. It is bad enough that she had a seriously weak moment. It was like every fantasy had come true. But she lived in reality. She was more than aware of the type of women that Sam dated and took to bed. No matter how she had improved on her self-esteem, she knew that she would never make the grade.

"Excuse me, young lady," he said sternly, while reaching out his hand to cover hers. By doing that, it forced her to stop what she was doing. "but this has gone beyond friendship. Are you regretting what just happened?"

"Well, don't you?" she quickly spat back. Her doe eyes that usually screamed innocence were now filled with fire and rage.

"I try not to do anything that I'll regret. And at the risk of making one more horrible pun, I certainly don't regret doing you." he nudged her again.

"Do you say this to all of your clients?"

Sam smiled. So her brown eyes did hold a little bit of the monster.

"Only the men." He had caught her off guard and laughed at her look of utter astonishment. Then he continued sincerely. "I won't lie to you. I have, on occasion, slept with female clients years ago. That is one of the main reasons why I stopped having female clients. At least, that was the case until you. And before you mention Tina, Tina was the exception. She was pretty much an unofficial package deal with Mike.

"But what just happened here? This was different. This was special. I wanted it … badly. I've watched it slowly build for weeks. Hell, I even tried to fight it." He looked around before settling his gaze on her again. Her face was filled with mirth and affection. "I didn't exactly picture it like this. But I've really come to care about you. I hope this is only the beginning of something. I hope we get another chance."

She stared into his face for a long moment before cautiously reaching out to run her fingers down his granite bicep. It was like she needed to confirm that the whole occurrence hadn't been one of her many dreams. As if she needed to make sure that all of his sweet, warm words did actually come from this living, breathing, walking piece of perfect man candy. When she reached his forearm, he grabbed her hand and kissed it before standing up. He reached out to her and taking both of her hands, he pulled her up beside him for a quick, solid hug.

"But I'm not sure how many shirts I have here and my next client is due in five minutes. So it's probably best to wait before we go for another round."

* * *

Mercedes left the gym; thankful she had escaped before his next client had arrived. She was sure that their activity was written all over her now sexed up face. Here's hoping that Sam had some air freshener nearby. No doubt that gym now smelled of sweaty sex.

She drove home and her mind was awash in confusion. If her life was a screenplay, this would have been the part where the sentimental uplifting music would play. The credits would start to roll and everyone would get up out of their seats and leave the sticky movie theater all warm and gushy.

But her life wasn't a romantic movie and she certainly wasn't a movie star even though her costar certainly looked like one. Time had stood still and for a few fleeting minutes, she had become an ingénue to a real-life idol. What was she supposed to do now? She had let her guard down and the result was getting seduced by the kind of man she had only dreamed about. It was impossible to believe that thanks to an exercise regimen, a new weave, and some new threads, she had transformed into an irresistible beauty. Sweet Jesus, she wasn't even blond. She wasn't even skinny. She wasn't even white. She was the complete opposite of his normal type. Obviously, the man had taken some momentary leave of his senses or had been overcome with the urge to pity fuck. All the lovely things he said afterward, including the confession that he had wanted her for weeks and had fought it, were probably said in the effort to keep her from freaking out in his gym. Possibly even to keep her on as a client with no hard feelings.

But worse yet, if he did mean them, that would pose a much bigger dilemma. How on earth was she supposed to continually hold the attention of a man like Sam Evans? Mercedes wasn't sure if she had the intestinal fortitude to keep up with his high-profile lifestyle or fend off every woman who wanted a piece of him. And then she realized she probably wouldn't have to. His parting words were talk of him fucking her again. His comments didn't exactly scream taking her out to dinner or home to meet his parents.

As she waited at a stoplight, her fingers unconsciously ran over her lips as it trying to feel for the remnants of his kiss one more time. A kiss so warm and enticing, it could have been considered obscene. It was a catalyst to ever repressed and tucked-away feeling she ever knew she could have. It unlocked her desire to throw caution to the wind and giver herself over to those feelings.

She giggled, thinking that if he actually had taken leave of his senses, she had been more than willing to join him. Maybe she was just as insane as he was … or at least in heat. In a blur of hands, tongues, and mouths, he took her to the sort of climax she never thought possible.

From the moment he ripped off her shirt, she had become effortlessly motivated to behave like ever sexpot she had ever read about. Mercedes flushed anew and squirmed a little in her car seat at the flashback of the whole encounter. She shivered with the memory of his fingers inside her. The way they commanded that she bring that climax forth. The way she literally came into his palm, only to find he was able to make her do it again. The light changed to green and the car behind her had honked their horn. She came back to the present and with one more giggle, returned her focus to the road.

* * *

By the time Mercedes had turned into her driveway, the sun had fully set on one of the most tumultuous days in her recent memory. No matter what the reason, whether pity or arousal, Sam had done her a tremendous favor. Even if they had never got together again, she would be grateful. He made her realize that she was once again in a full feeling woman, only now complete with sexuality, chemistry, and desire. It was another thing she could be grateful to him for. He didn't force himself on her. She had been more than a willing participant in what had turned out to be a revitalization of monumental proportions. She would go back into his gym on her next training day and make like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She would let him off the hook without making him feel guilty for their indiscretion.

As she showered, she became acutely aware that she was washing off all the intimate and sensitive places where his hands and mouth had been. She practiced how she would remain unaffected in his presence. At first, it wouldn't be easy, but she needed to do it for her own sanity. She would concentrate on keeping her focus on her exercises, just as she did in the beginning. She would let him touch her and stretch her without melting or sighing or being catapulted back in time. A time in which his mere touch had elicited a manic escapade of wanton passion. She would prove to him that she was mature and fully evolved. That she was perfectly capable of handling a one-night stand without falling apart and becoming a psycho stalking bitch.

Furthermore, she would start calling some of the numbers of the interesting, attractive men that she had met. After all, they wanted to take her out, so why not? She would take Mike's advice and date. She might even actively pursue some of the Braves players that Tina went out of her way to throw at her.

She became secure in the knowledge that if she could excite a man like Sam, she could make a lesser man fall over to electrify her. She never knew sex could be so spontaneous and explosive. Up until this afternoon, Mercedes had only been with one man. Spontaneous and explosive were two words that did not come to mind when it came to having sex with Anthony. He never brought her to an orgasm. The mere possibility of someone else making her feel that was euphoric.

Mercedes was in the kitchen, finishing an apple that was quartered and spread with peanut butter, when the doorbell rang. She made her way to the door and cautiously looked through the peephole.

Sam Evans stood on her doorstep.

She pulled away from the peephole and covered her mouth with her hand. "What in the hell was he doing here?" she thought to herself. It was too soon. She wasn't ready yet. The memory was still too fresh from their previous encounter. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and unlocked the deadbolt.

She opened the door and tried not to sigh. "I was going to wash your shirt before bringing it back to you," she lied. He was NEVER getting that souvenir returned.

He smiled, leaning up against the doorframe. "I'm not here for the shirt. Can I come in?"

Mercedes held open the door and he entered. Sam made his way through the foyer and into her family room before stopping and turning around to face her. His hands were planted on his hips and he spoke in a clipped, serious tone. "I wanted to apologize for what happened before."

"It's okay," she sputtered nervously after closing the door and joining him. Mercedes felt that it would be best if she had maintained a safe distance. "All that slapping and weeping going on, it was enough to make anyone act out of character. It was just such a nice kiss. I don't know what came over me."

He tilted his head to one side and smiled again. He dropped his hands and after taking a deep breath, he took a couple of steps closer to her. "I think we may be having a miscommunication issue. The kiss was nice as well as everything after it. But that is not what I am talking about."

"It's not? Mercedes' eyes grew wide and her mouth, while still open, was unable to produce a suitable retort.

Sam took another step closer. "No. It's not," he said slowly shaking his head as his stare was fixated on her full lips. He moved another few steps until he was right next to her before looking back up and into her eyes. His voice was pure velvet … well pure velvet with a slight southern accent. "I wanted to apologize for the ungentlemanly way I took you on my gym floor. Not very well done of me and it was certainly not my intention. I think I may have mentioned that before."

"Oh, that," she stammered, swallowing hard. He was so close. His melting hot stare was threatening to take her very breath away. His voice was sultry and hypnotic. "Think nothing of it. You could have taken me anywhere."

He released a single chuckled and reached out to place his finger over her mouth to silence her. "Thank you for that very kind offer. But I was thinking more along the lines of someplace a little more private, a bedroom maybe?"

Mercedes was still thunderstruck. The only thing that she could do was nod her head because she was unable to tear herself away from his smoldering eyes. Normally Sam's eyes were like shiny emeralds, but now they have darkened and filled with lust. He brought his head in and ever so slowly, ever so softly kissed her. "I really only meant to kiss you before," he whispered as he took his lips off hers. "Like that," he repeated the whisper and the action. Only this time with his hands creeping up around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "But you lit me up like a firecracker." He breathed into her mouth. "I know that I mentioned a second chance. Another go-round. But this time, we take our time." He moved his lips to her ear; the whisper became huskier. "Do it right."

"Right," she repeated breathlessly. In that moment, she had allowed herself to be fully enveloped within his embrace. Her head falling back to give him better access to the column of her throat as his mouth began to drift in that general directions. His hands glided down her back and up again to settle just below her rib cage before groping upward. The same hands that were usually so precise and thorough, now seemed to be everywhere in a frenzy to try to touch all of her at once. She felt the bulge in his shorts pressing against her. It was hard and full, and all in reaction to her. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him. It sent a fresh rush of passion coursing through her.

Sam roughly pulled at the knot in her robe before none-too-gently pushing her onto the couch. He had arrived at her house with the sole purpose of taking his time, allowing them both to fully experience each other through erotic foreplay. He wanted to fondle her slowly. Find and memorize all the spots she had that were the most responsive, the most sensitive to his mouth and his hands. He wanted to become familiar with a body that, until a few hours ago, he had known by heart, but wasn't at all used to. A body with womanly curves, muscle, and substance. A body with breasts and a bottom that filled his hands with some to spare. A body whose newness made him ache with an undefined agitation. A body that he had created. To hell with taking his time. With her innocent excitement came the overwhelming urge to bury himself deep inside her again. His ears longed to hear her soft gasps at his invasion. He already knew she was hot and tight, and it was a discovery that shook him to his core.

He dropped his khaki shorts, removed his shirt, and pulled off her panties. He ran his hand over the tuft of hair on her mound. Not overly waxed or hairless, but with soft curly fur that would soon be glistening with a wetness he had produced. Thirsty for it, he kissed her there. Single-minded passes with his strong lips and rough tongue insistently probed until she was both breathless and witless. He lifted her legs and placed them on his shoulders, tilting up upward to bring her in line with him.

With supreme effort, he forced himself to enter her slowly. Watching as inch by inch his rock-hard member disappeared with her willing, wet cavern. He felt her thigh muscles tighten when he reached his hilt and she began to writhe beneath him. Mercedes reached out, desperate to touch him, feel him, pull him closer, and she moaned as he held her in position, denying her unspoken demand. Unable to and with no desire to escape, she dropped her hands and dug her nails into the couch's leather. He watched himself start to withdraw from her ad rove into her again. This time he was quicker, with more purpose. She moaned again.

"Tell me Mercedes," he commanded from above her, moving his gaze from her luscious junction, where he was still fully sheathed, holding her legs securely against him. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you Sam. I just want you," she responded feverishly.

He thrust into her vigor, watching her bite into her lower lip.

"Faster," She swooned as her head was shaking from side to side.

He began moving within her. He was faster. He was persistent. He wanted to fulfill her every need.

"All of you." Mercedes began to speak in breathy, broken sentences. "I want you," she repeated on a sob as with orchestrated movement he drove into her repeatedly and brought her to the brink of ecstasy and the neatly pushed her right over it.

She cried out his name one final time before incoherent cries took its place and she began to stiffen and then shudder uncontrollably. He held her legs tightly as she wildly bucked against him, firmly entrenched in the sweet creaminess that was her essence. Before she was finished, his own unavoidable release spewed forth ad he held fast as he climaxed, reluctant to leave her until no other option was possible.

He exhaustedly joined her on the couch, shifting her so that she lay directly on his torso and his arm rested on her back, His fingertips gently massaging her soft shoulder. They sat in silence for several long moments, until their heart rates and breathing returned to normal.

"At least we don't have to worry about someone walking in on us," he finally remarked. Astounded that the woman in his arms could make him deviate from his plan of leisurely exploration of her body. He had pounced on her right in her family room like some high schooler with only minutes before her parents got home.

"And I will say this much," she told him languidly, loving the feel of his warm muscles pressed up against her. "You are getting us closer to the bedroom."

"The night is still young, sweetness," her rumbled suggestively into her ear, then tightened his arm around her and looked down at her flushed, smiling face. "And I am just getting started."

* * *

**Well, now Sam is giving Mercedes a workout outside of the gym! LOL!**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thank you all for embracing my New Years Resolution! You have helped me fulfill a promise that I had made to myself.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, they would have gone more into Quinn's postpartum depression. Glee could have used that to not only inform viewers about the condition, but the could have also strengthened Quinn and Mercedes' friendship. Quinn and Mercedes rarely had a scene together after the baby was born.**

** Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA.**

* * *

Mercedes woke up alone the next morning. Safely nestled in her bed. Like countless mornings before, she had patiently waited for wakefulness to fully take hold. She rubbed her face, then glanced at the clock. According to her clock, it was reading past nine. She had overslept. It wasn't until she stretched that she began to remember everything that happened the night before.

She struggled to sit up. Her aching muscles were voicing their protest. As she raised her arms to stretch, she had glanced over at the pillow next to hers. A faint indent on the pillow remained, signifying that indeed someone had been sleeping beside her. It was the same someone she vaguely remembered kissing her forehead and tucking the covers around her when leaving just before dawn.

Sam Evans had made love to her and he literally did it all night long.

She was sore everywhere. She had done things with him that she had only read about. Positions she was sure only yoga masters were privy to. She was sore down there due to his insatiable desire to ravage her. And when he wasn't inside her, he held her close. They giggled and teased each other until the wee hours of the morning before finally drifting off to sleep.

"Wow! He certainly got me to the bedroom," Mercedes said out loud and she fell back into bed. She briefly debated staying there all day and just pretend that the night had not even ended. She rolled over and grabbed the pillow that he had used. Bringing it up to her nose, she could still smell the intoxicating mixture of his sweat, hair gel and his cologne. Last night was every dream that she ever had in her life. She felt sexy and beautiful with a dab of dirty. He brought out all of those feelings in her the moment that his lips touched hers.

Mercedes was on cloud nine and she had no intention of coming down.

But what happens now? Sam was not the kind to make commitments. Mike had made that knowledge abundantly clear. Certainly, he would've had his fill of her after a night like that. But how was she supposed to forget about all the things that he did to her. The intimacy that they shared? How would she ever be able to remain unaffected by him once she saw him again. She would have to. There was no choice. What if he told her that he couldn't train her anymore?

Her thoughts were interrupted when the phone next to her bed rang. Mercedes looked at the caller ID. It was Marley. She immediately pressed the talk icon on her phone.

"Perfect timing," Mercedes said into the phone.

"Morning," Marley replied before saying their standard "How's tricks?"

"How's tricks? I'll tell you how tricks are. I just spent the night having wild sex with my trainer." Mercedes tried to sound cool, but the excitement was making her feel all warm inside. "No way."

Not the reaction that Mercedes had hoped for. "Oh yes way."

There was another pause. "You had sex with your trainer? The same trainer who was a part of People Magazine's Sexiest Men issue?

"Yes."

"I want details," Marley said flippantly.

"I'm not giving you details." Mercedes giggled, feeling the afterglow wash over her again. "But I will say this. IT WAS AMAZING! I am not sure if I am going to be able to walk today."

"Well that didn't take long. I guess what they say about trainers is true. Mercedes, how could you let this happen?" Marley's voice rang with reproach.

Mercedes felt the sting of it. "What do you mean by that? Forget it! Don't answer that. I don't want to know. But you know what? I thought you would have the decency to be happy for me. If for no other reason than I got the cobwebs cleaned out of my fun place. Until recently, my fun place only held tampons."

"If this is what you want, then I am happy for you. You have just entered the Land of Oz. And the last time I looked; you are not wearing ruby shoes."

"Who says I'm not ready to keep moving forward. I didn't throw myself at him, you know," Mercedes said defensively. "Whose side are you on anyway?"

"I'm on your side. But guys like that… " Marley's words trailed off.

"Guys like that what?" Mercedes demanded. "Don't go for girls like me? Don't go for the short, chubby chicks like me?"

"They're single for a reason." The response was flat and monotone.

"I can't believe you just said that," Mercedes snapped. "We've been spending a lot of time together. He told me that he has been attracted to me for a while. Why are you trying to make me feel lousy? Unless you think he's lying or I don't deserve him?"

"No. I think it is all great. But I've heard about this stuff. Why would he want to see how far you'd go? You've been his trained seal for months," Marley said, her words measured and deliberate. "But I also don't think you should get carried away. You had sex. That is it. I just think if you're looking at this like you are going to have a future with this man, you are delusional as fuck. You have been through a lot these past few years. I don't want you heading for trouble and getting hurt in the end. You've told me all about the crowd that this guy hangs with."

"I never said anything about a future. I am not stupid. I am not that naïve. And he has a name." Mercedes wiped the tears of exhaustion and disappointment that started to make their way down her cheek. "His name is Sam and I expect you to call him that."

"Okay, Sam. Happy now? You've told me all about Sam and his famous friends. About how he has been taking you to ball games and fancy dinners. How you're practically joined at the hip with Tina Chang. Now that he has gotten his pound of flesh, don't be surprised if it all comes to a crashing end and all of your invites suddenly starts disappearing."

"I am already operating under that assumption, but thank you so very much for your vote of confidence." Mercedes voice seeped with sarcasm. "And you're wrong about Tina. Quit making assumptions about people you don't know."

"What's next, you're going to trade in your loafers for stilettos?"

"Oh, you are a little too late for that. I have five pairs. I am slowly building up my collection. Who knew that my legs could be so sexy?"

"Who are you! Don't you think it is all a bit out of your box?" There was an infuriating edge to Marley's tone that Mercedes had no choice but to recognize.

"How would you know? All your relationship knowledge comes from reality TV. Why is that? Because you are too damn scared to leave Lima, Ohio in the dust. There is a big, whole, fat world out there and you choose to hang around in dead end Lima." Mercedes spat out with venom, but she was on a roll. "Am I having too much fun for you? Not quite depressed enough for you anymore? So you had decided hey, the world had gone wacko if Mercedes is actually smiling, if she is actually happy, so let me put her back in her place!"

"You think I am jealous?" Marley's laugh was harsh. "Jealous of what? Jealous that you got used up by a horney personal trainer? How very ethical of him. He's a real class act."

"You don't even know him," Mercedes was close to shouting."Who knew you could be so vulgar."

"I don't need to know him," Marley responded with surprising calm. "But I do know you. You're not the one-night stand kind of girl. He is going to hurt you and it's going to piss me off. Unfortunately, you're too far away for me to do anything about it."

Mercedes brought her tone down to match Marley's, only with an underlying coolness to try to mask the hurt. "Guess what? I am happy to bust out of that box! That box was my prison. Since the day of Anthony's diagnosis, it has been three years. I think it is time that I got paroled. There's nothing for you to do Marley. I am not always a problem that needs fixing. You're always saying that you want me to be happy and the first morning since Anthony died that I am really happy. A morning that I am not faking my way through it, you decide to take it upon yourself to shoot it all down."

"I know the truth hurts and I'm sorry. I just have a rotten feeling about this. He will somehow take advantage of you. What else do you want me to say? 'I promise not to rub it in your face when he breaks your heart'?"

"You won't have to worry about that. Thanks for nothing. Why don't you go back to your humdrum life and stay out of mine. I am not your concern anymore. I have to go." Mercedes quickly disconnected the call and threw the phone on the bed.

It wasn't the first, last, or only time Mercedes and Marley had angrily hung up on each other, although it has been years. There was little doubt in Mercedes' mind that Marley was lashing out at least partially in envy. Marley had never liked it when Mercedes got too much attention. Even when they were in school together, she was bothered by it. When Coach Sylvester asked her to be a member of the Cheerios, the first thing that Mercedes did was to run to her best friend to tell her the good news. The Cheerios were the top of the food chain at their high school. She thought that Marley would be happy for her, but her attitude had cooled considerably on the news. It became downright chilly the moment that Mercedes started wearing her Cheerios uniform and the letterman jacket that came with it. Up until then Mercedes was always in the background, while Marley had soaked up her position as the extroverted popular girl. Marley lived to be the center of attention. The tide had suddenly turned and Marley didn't know how to handle it. As long as Mercedes wasn't too happy, Marley could act as her biggest supporter. At times, it made her feel like a charity case. It was one of the main reasons why she was glad to put some distance between herself and Lima,Ohio. Mercedes had repressed that realization. She kept reminding herself that no one was perfect and afraid of losing the only real friend she ever had besides Anthony.

She wanted Marley to be happy for her, even if her relationship with Sam did head into disaster. Mercedes had felt the resentment building up in Marley from the moment Mercedes told her about the first baseball game Sam took her to. Marley was peevish and quick to point out that Mercedes and people like Sam and the Chang's were worlds apart and that she couldn't understand what Mercedes had in common with any of them. Eventually, Mercedes had stopped talking about her new life altogether. But the events of last night had changed all of that.

Mercedes needed her friend and her friend had failed her.

Whether Marley liked it or not, Mercedes was changing and she had no intention of going back to the place where she came from. Anthony's early death had change her in more ways than she could imagine. It made her realize that life was too short. That tomorrow is not guaranteed. That even though Anthony had made her happy and content, she was going through the motions. She wasn't living. Once he died, Mercedes quit trying all together.

Right now, Mercedes was in the middle of her own self-discovery. She cannot allow anyone's negativity to get in the way of that.

But Mercedes couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that there was some truth behind Marley's words. Whether Marley had just zeroed in on Mercedes' weakness and exploited it because she was one of the few people who knew which button to push. It just didn't matter. She was certain of one thing and one thing only. What happened last night was likely nothing more than temptation overruling commons sense. Mercedes would have to be careful to navigate her way through the aftermath of her night with Sam. She already felt like she'd lost a friend. The thought of his completely leaving her life was upsetting too.

Mercedes went downstairs and found her cell phone on the kitchen counter. When she saw a text from Sam suggesting she come into the gym later for some cardio, she smiled with relief. He was right back to the status quo. She put down the phone and went back to bed.

Today, she was officially taking the day off from Sam Evans. Afterall, her body needed to recover. A lot has happened in twenty-four hours.

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**Can't Mercedes just catch a break! Everytime she takes a couple of steps forward in her life, there is always someone there to knock her a few steps back. Instead of being happy that her friend had her back cracked & straightened, her best friend throws water on her afterglow!**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for putting up with my new addiction, shaking your head over my disclaimers, and reading this story. It warms my heart**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, Mr. Shue would have not have gotten teacher of the year because he did not earn it. He sucked as a Spanish teacher. He was only single focused when it came to being a Glee teacher. I would even go as far as to say that the character was prejudice.**

** Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. Besides, if this chapter was completely perfect, you would think that someone else was typing it. I can't have that! Oh, and I am not using a BETA.**

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It was official. Sam Evans, personal trainer to the pros, was off the market. At least as far as women were concerned. He stopped making calls to other women and stopped taking them as well. Messages from old lovers piled up and were erased without his even listening to them. Texts went unanswered. He still maintained his work schedule, but every spare minute he had was dedicated to sexing up Mercedes Jones. Every day, as soon as his last client had left, he would lock the door, and would head straight over to her house with the sole purpose: wanting to hear her cry out his name as she came.

It soon became his favorite sound.

He practically went underground, with only Mike and Tina having any real clue as to his whereabouts. That first session alone with Tina had been torture. She was on her best behavior when she came in with Mike. Mike was unaffected. His focus was on getting ready for the playoffs. But Tina was quiet, too quiet. Her smug little smile told Sam all he needed to know. So, when she came in later that day for her own session, Sam cut right to the chase.

"Go ahead, Tina. Get it out of your system." He sighed.

"I'm not allowed to talk about it," she told him, leaving the smug smile fully in place.

"Tell Mike that I said thank you." He winked at her, relaxing.

"But I told you so," she replied happily before launching into a full blown diatribe, complete with planning several vacations, holidays and a wedding.

"I'm telling on you," he finally said, pulling out his phone.

This was such a new feeling for Sam, that he didn't quite know what to do. He was in such unfamiliar territory. To him, it felt like having a new toy that he didn't want to share. Mercedes was different in so many new and wonderful ways. He felt like he never had enough of her. He couldn't seem to stop himself from taking her hard and fast. Continuously afraid of spontaneously ejaculating the minute she touched him. Maybe it was because she told him that since she had only been with her husband, it lent to her eagerness that drove him wild. Her soft touch across his hot skin acted like a match being struck and setting him ablaze. She cried out of him as if she was praying and he was her salvation. That first week he had trouble keeping himself from getting hard just thinking about her. It was exasperating and amazing. The ravenous desire waging war with the struggle to take back control over his own body.

He stripped her slowly and she let him. Each piece of closing removed was an invitation to touch her never-ending curves and valleys. Her natural breast, full and lust, would respond to his hands by becoming hard and jutted. Not because they were designed that way by a plastic surgeon, but because of her arousal. Her dark, round nipples begged to be licked and he would oblige, secure in the knowledge that she was felling every single lap of his tongue, every nibble of his teeth. Her bottom bounced and jiggled joyfully with his kneading as well as he relentless penetration when he took her from behind. The slight roundness of her belly that remained despite the countless of crunches he bade her do began to remind him of a carnival ride. Something he could hold on to as she willing and without intimidation let him mold her into whatever position he chose to take her in.

But most of all, she gave, warmly, without hesitation or reservation. She was never shy about exactly who she was. Mercedes kept laughingly telling him that she was built for endurance, not for speed. She never hid behind towels, sheets or darkness. She demanded nothing and expected nothing. No, he would take that back. Except for her kiss. Her kiss demanded and expected his attention and accepted nothing less, gentle yet persistent. Every time he brought his lips to hers, it was like the first time and she responded with awe. Ever kiss goodbye ended up launching him back into the desire to possess her all over again.

They started sharing workouts together and Sam had always made sure that the gym door was locked. It always started out with the purest of intentions. They worked out diligently and seriously, paying homage to their respective body temples. But they each also secretly looked forward to watching the other's muscles in action, the rush of pheromones their sweat produced and the overpowering lust it subsequently provided. He ravished her on weight benches, in the shower room, and on his desk. He drank from between her thighs like she was an oasis in a desert and he was dying of thirst.

But when Sam was alone, his body drained and exhausted of every available ounce of testosterone. When he was with Mercedes, he gave his all to her.

Sam preferred going to her house instead of bringing her to his so he could avoid any dropping by accidently on purpose that could lead to confrontations. He rationalized that the reason why he never took her out was because she preferred a quiet existence, devoid of the hectic pace of his high-profile nightlife. He also knew he wasn't being truthful.

He knew logically that Mercedes was healthy. Her body was finally tuned and conditioned as any athlete's. She had followed every piece of advice he had ever have. He had understood that no amount of exercise and dietary changes, short of starvation, would have her reaching a single digit size. Right now, he was happy with Mercedes just the way she was. He wouldn't want her to lose more weight. But at the same time, he knew that the world wasn't like that. Even though he was proud of her, he also knew that he had never dated anyone that looked like her. In truth, he was ashamed to admit that vanity played into that. But he also knew that if he ever ran into any of his exes or even some of his friends, they would not be so kind to her and he wanted to spare her of that.

They were cuddled up in her bed late one night. Their bodies entwined, mutual hands occasionally wandering. The latest John Legend song was piping out of her Amazon Alexa device in her room. Mercedes took her head off Sam's chest and leaned her chin on it as she stared at his dozing chiseled features. As the pressure increased, he opened his eyes and gave her a thoroughly gratified smile.

"What?"

"What do you see in me?" She asked him.

"Is this a test?" He chuckled.

"Never mind. You don't have to answer that," Mercedes replied. Discomfited, she had laid her head back down on his chest, making sure he couldn't see her face. She had posed a question to him that she really didn't want to know the answer to.

Mercedes felt his arm, which was resting on her shoulder, tighten around her. It moved slowly down the slope of her back and up again. His fingertips were creating a sensual pattern over her skin. His hand finally rested neatly on the indent of her waist. Then he spoke.

"I see a woman who takes pleasure in a lot of the same things that I do. I see a woman who makes me laugh. A woman who loves to strive and sweat and doesn't complain even though she hates to do leg lunges. I see a woman whose inner strength matches her outer strength, which can also be said for her beauty. I see a woman who effortlessly brings out the best of me as a man. I see a woman who makes me a better person."

Mercedes remained with her face turned away. Afraid that if she looked at him, she would be overwhelmed. What he said was heartfelt and sincere. But in Mercedes' mind, it was also lacking. It sounded so diplomatic. Like he was enjoying everything she offered him, but could easily live without it. She was positively smitten with him. He was just enjoying the time that they were spending together.

At least he was honest and didn't fill her head and heart with smarmy bullshit. She knew she would have to start thinking more like him, or she would be doomed when their time together was over. She took a deep breath and turned back to face him. He was smiling down at her, the same smile that still had the ability to take her breath away.

"Did I pass?" he asked as he pulled her up to bring her lips closer to his and his hands began to wonder again.

His lips touched her before she was forced to answer.

"I got a job," Mercedes told him two weeks later as they were snuggling up on her couch, getting ready to watch a movie. "

"You did?" Sam asked. He was mildly surprised and then moderately concerned. He wasn't aware that she had been looking for one. "Why? You don't need the money. Is there something wrong?"

"No, no, no," she quickly reassuring him. "It is nothing like that. You're right, financially, I am fine. It is just, I needed something to fill my days. Because, right now I can't really justify hibernating in my house anymore. I have spent the last two years within these walls mourning and drowning in my own depression. I cannot live like that anymore. I need to get out of the house. I need to socialize more. Make new friends. I need to do something else besides fly out to San Francisco to attend board meetings and monitoring Anthony's investments. Now that I am out of my emotional funk, I need to live a little. So, I am taking baby steps. I am not sure if I am explaining this right. I just needed to do something on my own. Something that is not tied to my past. Besides, it was an interesting opportunity."

"An interesting marketing opportunity? Is that even possible?" He joked.

"Not exactly," she replied tentatively, "although it would be nice to take my degree out for a drive. It is more like a customer-service position. I was at the Nike outlet the other day and got to talking to a guy who is the sales manager at a local gym."

"You got to talking to a guy? About a local gym?" Sam felt his irritation meter switch on. Why was Mercedes interested in local gyms? Why was she talking to other guys? "Which gym?"

"Bodyessy," she told him. It did not escape her that Sam had a distinct edge to his voice. He had gone from conversing to questioning.

"Bodyessy," he repeated.

"Yeah. You know, like 'odyssey', but with a 'B'. Their motto is 'We give your bod a odyssey'."

"I'm very aware of it," Sam said with a chuckle. They were an East Coast franchise outfit of about one hundred gyms specializing in hard sell practices. They have a long-term loophole contracts and slowly repaired leased equipment. "And just want are you going to do for them? Sales?"

"No. I am going to be their opener."

"Opener? He did tell you what the opener actually does, right?" he asked her in a tone more condescending that she would have considered him capable of.

"Yeah. They open the gym." she responded in kind.

"You do realize that they open at five in the morning?" Sam told her. Almost moping as he pictured her alarm being set for three thirty in the morning and all their late-night love making would be flying out the window. "And calling in sick isn't really an option. Those cookie cutter gyms live and die by the unlocking of the door. I don't think they give you three strikes to be late either. It's two and you're canned. You do realize that, right?"

"Of course, I do," Mercedes said. Now she was starting to feel defensive and more determined than ever. This was her life dammit. "He explained the whole thing to me. I just have to turn on the lights, the music, and the equipment, get the cash register set up for the day, unlock the front door, and make sure that everyone who tries to in is paid up. It doesn't really sound that hard. I am off by nine. The money isn't at all that spectacular, but I am guaranteed all weekends and holidays off. And they throw in a membership and a free training session once a week. Not to mention, I want to try their kickboxing class"

"And why exactly do you need a free gym membership or a training session?" He attempted to reverse his attitude as well as his method of persuasion by sounding lighthearted and pulled her into his lap, nuzzling her neck. "You have a twenty-four-hour-a-day access to a gym. Twenty-four-hour access to a trainer too, come to think of it."

"Well, that's just it," Mercedes said slowly. She was finding it hard to concentrate on the topic at hand, especially with his warm lips on her throat and his hand between her legs. I don't want you get sick of me."

"Why don't you let me worry about that?" he said, turning the nuzzle into a nibble, but this time at her earlobe.

"I don't want to get sick of you either," she murmured. It was important to her that she chose her words carefully, but she was slowly figuring out that it was not possible.

The nibbling stopped and his head popped up. "I beg your pardon?"

Mercedes could tell by the shocked look on his handsome face that she did indeed misspoke. "That didn't come out right."

"You're sick of me?" he asked her. His green eyes were wide and disbelieving.

"No, not at all," she told him quickly as she had climbed off him and sat back down on the edge of the couch. Her mind was searching for a plausible explanation. "It's just that we're spending almost all of our free time together. Don't get me wrong, it is great. I'm just afraid it's going to get old really fast, especially if I'm doing all my cardio workouts around you and your other clients. I'm starting to feel like a groupie."

"I've never said or thought that, but whatever." Sam leaned back on the couch, crossed his arms over his chest and went back to moping. "I suppose the next time you're going to do is fire me as your trainer."

"Of course not!" she gasped. "Have you lost your mind? I couldn't lose you if I even wanted to. But even you've told me that every now and then, you need to shock the body by switching it up." And then she smiled, leaning back into him and placing her chin on his shoulder. "And what could shock my body more than having some mediocre trainer put me through some lame paces on some shoddy equipment?"

Sam exhaled, unmoving, but shifting his eyes downward to meet hers looking up at him from his shoulder. "You're making me sound like a petulant child that you're trying to get to eat vegetables, you know."

She batted her eyelashes and dramatically looked up at him. "If the shoe fits, junior."

He faked a roar and tumbled he backward onto the couch, grabbing both her hands in his and restraining her at the wrist above her head. He looked down from on top of her and began to address her strictly.

"You fully realized that most of the trainers at these chain store gyms are nothing but hacks with dime-store education. They aren't even qualified to hold your legs during an abdominal crunch."

She made no move to escape. "Of course, my superior physical education mentor."

"And that the free session they give you is really nothing more than an opportunity to sell you on an overpriced package of more sessions?"

"I'll tell them not to bother. I'll tell them I train with the legendary Sam Evans. Although if you want to talk about overpriced….," She teased.

"And because you're my grasshopper, if they try to sell you to do some crackpot exercise that you know isn't right, you won't do it?" he said, continuing to scold her while shifting both her wrists into one of hands. With his free hand, he had gently traced his fingertips from the base of her throat slowly down into her shirt where her breast came together and lingered there.

"I'll fake an injury worthy of an Academy Award," she promised, craning her next upward in an effort to kiss him.

He moved his head up farther, deliberately keeping her from reaching while he probing deeper within her cleavage with his middle finger. "And finally, if some steroid raging insomniac starts going crazy because he didn't pay his monthly dues and still wants to come in, you won't do anything stupid and will call the police?"

"I'll let him in like he owns the place and patiently wait for the cops to come and Taser him," she vowed as she was beginning to squirm provocatively beneath him.

"That's my girl," Sam said right before letting go of her wrist, wrapping his arms around her and sending his mouth crashing onto hers.

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**Could Sam be heading to relationshipland? Is he finally able to spell committment?**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Zini. I hope that this chapter finds you joy. Thank you for your support and always being in my corner. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, vocally Artie and Mercedes I would have been leads for competitions at least some of the leads. Out of the Glee group, they had the best vocals. Anyone listening to their duet of "Stand By Me" could see it. Unfortunately, Mr Shue was single minded and single focused. There would be no way that he would allow a boy in a wheelchair and a plus sized black female to take center stage, even though they were both better singers than the vanilla duo that he was promoting. If he was a true teacher, he would have given everyone an opportunity to sing lead at a competition. **

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. What can I say? I am my own BETA!**

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In the end, Sam knew he had little choice. He certainly didn't own Mercedes. They hadn't had any sort of conversation about exclusivity. She had never pushed the issue with him. She was always available and willing to accommodate his schedule or his mood. And he wasn't done playing with her yet. Mercedes was his fun new toy. He hadn't finished touching and tasting and arousing her yet. It was something he had taken for granted. He took advantage of the fact that she had no friends, except the Changs, so he never had to compete with anyone for her time. Deep down, Sam knew he was being unreasonable. If he was being honest with himself, he would have admitted he didn't like the idea of sharing his shiny new obsession.

But as the days turned into weeks and Mercedes began to tell Sam more anecdotes about the people she worked with. The stories centered around her regular early bird customers and her goofy new trainer, Kurt. Soon dislike began to resemble flat out disdain every time that Mercedes had talked about him. It was when Tina mentioned to him that she was joining Bodyssey for afternoon cardio dates with Mercedes that he realized that he needed to make a change. The ensuing irrational discomfort was a clear indicator that Sam had to take back some control before his emotions got the best of him.

The first order of business is to know your enemy and face your fear. He played around with his schedule for Thursday and moved all of his early morning clients to later in the day. By doing that, it will leave him open until ten. Then on Wednesday night, he set his alarm for five. He awoke that morning, took a quick wake-up shower, put on his workout clothes, and made the drive to Bodyssey.

He had arrived there just before six. The sun was beginning to come up, but gaudy colorful spotlights illuminated the building's façade. Basically, it was a beacon calling out to all local gym rats. The parking lot was already half-full and he could hear the cliché music blasting from the speakers installed outside. He parked his car on the outskirts of the lot, grabbed his towel, water and then jogged his way to the front door. He was halfway to his destination when the music suddenly stopped and was replaced by Mercedes' voice. She sounded like a carnival barker than anything else.

"There's three bikes left for the spin class that starts in five minutes." she announced. "First come, first serve. And remember, I do not take threats, but I will accept cash"

Sam burst out laughing and picked up his pace.

He opened the door, stepped through a small atrium and then he went inside. She was behind a long counter, looking fresh and adorable. On the other side of it, in front of her, was no less than three men. All either were getting ready to go and work out or they have already finished. They were laughing. Appearing to be hanging on to her every word. It looked to Sam as if Mercedes was holding court. As soon as she caught sight of him, her smile grew even wider.

"Hello handsome," she told him, beaming. "Welcome to Bodyssey." All the heads turned in his direction.

"Oh man," one of the heads, a man in his forties with red hair that was graying at the temples and a faded Mets shirt, announced boisterously. "We have a new guest. Shift over everyone! Make room on the couch! Key up the music!"

"New guest! We have a virgin here!" the remaining men repeated cheerfully.

Sam stared at the group frankly, feeling left out of the joke as they moved over to allow him access to stand directly in front of her.

Mercedes turned her attention briefly back to the heads. "Not this one, guys. This one's a special guest. A first-timer."

"Newbie!" the heads sang in unison and they laughed again. Then one by one, they had all meandered off either into the gym or out the door. All of them had told Mercedes to either have a great day or they would catch up later.

"What's all this talk about a couch?" Sam asked warily as he approached.

"Oh, that is just Joe." She laughed, giving a haphazard wave in the general direction of where the Mets-shirt-wearing man had headed. "He likes to think of our morning front desk conversations as the Conan O'Brien show. He's the Andy Richter. So, what brings you here?"

"I just wanted to check the place out," he told her truthfully and yet withheld the main reason for his walking through those front doors. "Basically, I wanted to see what I am missing. Maybe get some new tips. What's a day pass cost?

"Sure, like I'm going to charge you," she said. With that, she reached behind the desk for a carbon copied piece of paper. "Here. Sign this waiver. And don't hurt yourself or I'll get in trouble for not writing down your phone number and scheduling a tour for you."

"Well now, I want to see you get in trouble," he lied. Taking the pen that was offered, he had proceeded to sign the waiver. Personally, he would've liked nothing more than to see her lovable ass fired. Let Andy Richter find a new gig.

"Hey," Mercedes excitedly said. "you want to meet the personal-training manager Kurt? I bet he would love to meet you. He came in early today. He wanted to bring back the defibrillator. He took it home last night to replace the batteries."

Sam looked up. "Replaced the batteries? Just how many people nearly drop dead here?"

Mercedes gave him a look of reproach. "Sam, Stop it. They replace the batteries every six months whether the machine needs it or not, just like you do. You're starting to sound like a snob. Do you want to meet him or not?"

Sam smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I'll knock it off. Do you mind if I meet him next time? I just wanted to get in a quick workout and check the place out. Get an idea of what you're talking about when you tell me stories.

"Sure. Of course. Not a problem. Next time.," she was trying to mask her disappointment when she had replied. What were the odds that there was ever going to be a next time? And then she had brightened. There could only be one reason that Sam would ever set foot in Bodyssey, and it would be to see her. And he was fin-looking sight firs thing in the morning, as if she needed reminding.

Sam went back to reading the waiver and other members came through the doors. Each one was greeted with a cheerful good morning from Mercedes as she scanned their key tags. There were blatant looks of appreciation and interest at the perfect specimen of fitness in basketball shorts and a baby blue tank top A few of them lingered at the count to share tidbits of information with Mercedes. Same kept his head down as he gleaned that Mercedes knew almost everyone who walked into the gym by name and they knew hers too. They didn't even have to look at her name tag. Mercedes gave no indication that she even knew Sam, much less that they had an intimate relationship. Once they were left alone, she leaned over the counter to whisper in his ear, "Do you have to go with a wife beater this morning? I think we may end up needed the defibrillator after all. The way that Mrs. O'Malley was checking you out, you will likely cause her to have a heart attack."

Sam looked up again and gave her one of his famous disarming smiles. It is a smile that always makes her feel weak in the knees. "Anything that I need to know before I get in there? He asked while looking casually past her and into the gym.

Mercedes was about to warn him that under no circumstances should he go into the sauna, because it was badly maintained, fungus-invested sweat pit where it was rumors that several know perverts went to meet and jerk off for each other. But just then her attention was drawn to the door. Suddenly, it was as if Sam didn't exist.

"Good morning, Leslie!" Mercedes smiled brightly. "I'm so happy to see you. I know today's is the big day.

Sam turned his head and tried not to react. Leslie wasn't just morbidly obese. She had easily passed the grad that would be considered super obese. A clarification made recently by the World Health Organization to address the growing epidemic of obesity. She must have weighted close to four hundred pounds. Leslie's movements were stilted. Her legs struggled to bear her weight and she lumbered from the entrance to the counter. Her outfit reminded Sam of the outfit that Mercedes had worn during their first training session ... loose fit sweatpants and a T-shirt. Leslie's breathing was labored and her eyes downcast. She refused to even acknowledged Sam.

"Hi Mercedes." she heaved, placing her purse, towel, and water bottle on the counter. After scanning in her card. "I think I am going to be sick."

Mercedes continued to ignore Sam and instead she walked to the section of the counter where Leslie was standing and immediately laid her hand on top of hers. Tony stayed glued to his spot. He was fighting hard to resist the professional urge to jump in and give her a pep talk so he could inspire the woman. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure of where he would begin. So instead, he pretended to read some fitness magazines.

"No, you're not," Mercedes told her assertively. She then lowered her voice. "You're going to get in there and do whatever Kurt tells you to do. One agonizing second at a time. You're going to sweat, hurt and maybe even cry, but you are going back to what I had said before. You may actually get sick. But you won't be the first, last or only person who has ever puked in this gym. In fact, some trainers consider it a badge of honor.

"But he's going to try to kill me, I just know it," Leslie whispered back, wide-eyed and frightened.

"Kurt is well aware of your limitations. Trust me, if he kills you, he loses a paying customer. NO way is he going to let that happen." Mercedes smiled reassuringly and Leslie started smiling as well. "You can do this." Mercedes then squeezed Leslie's hand, patted it one final time, and released it. "Now, go and warm up. Remember, baby steps. You didn't get this way overnight. The only way for this to work is one minute at a time."

Leslie lifted her head up and Mercedes nodded purposefully at her. Leslie nodded back. Giving Sam nothing more than a passing glance, she plodded her way into the gym.

Mercedes watched Leslie leave before turning back to Sam.

"That was very well done," he told her, smiling with what he could only define as genuine pride. "Who taught you to give that kind of pep talk?"

"I picked up some stuff here and there," she replied at the same time she just wanted to kiss the smile right off his face.

"It's a cosmic stroke of luck that you're the first thing she sees when walking through that door. I can't help but wonder how successful she'll be if she has even half the chutzpah you do."

"Chutzpah! Really Sam!" Mercedes responded, shaking her head and completely missing the compliment. "She's so scared and scarred. She'd been housebound for almost two years after her husband left her, taking their three husband children with him. It was decided that Kurt needed to handle Leslie himself, at least for a while, until she's built up some endurance and confidence.

"I like her. I see myself in her. I to, was a prisoner in my home for about two years. My husband didn't walk out on me and took my world with him. Anthony died. But the pain the same. The only difference is the fact that I didn't balloon up as big. But that would've been me if I didn't get bumped out of first class and sat next to someone on the plane."

"I wondered who that could be?" Sam gave her a crooked, beaming smile. "But seriously, taking it slow is a good move." Then his smile went from beaming with pride, to a devilish one. "And who knows? Maybe in the end, Kurt will end up falling for her."

"That's not likely to happen." Mercedes was quick to opposed the suggestion.

"Why not?" Same raised his eyebrows in real surprise at the thinly veiled reference to their own relationship being met with such skepticism. "Stranger things have happened."

"True," Mercedes responded, looking very serious, but with merriment in her eyes. "But that would be really strange since Kurt is totally gay."

"Oh." Sam pursed his lips together. He was once again reminded of just how out of his element he really was. Twice in one morning and it was barely six. "Talk about sticking my foot in my mouth."

"It's okay." Mercedes giggled. She took a sip of what had recently become her lifeblood. It was the QuikTrip coffee that she had purchased on her way into work. "Why don't you go and get your workout in? I'm sorry that I am going to miss all of your flexing because it simply makes me hot. By the way, I am really am happy to see you."

Sam walked away from the counter and into the gym. He picked a quiet corner to do a quick pre-workout stretch and did a survey of the layout. There were two levels to the gym, with the second-floor housing mostly cardio equipment that looked down onto the main gym floor. The second floor also had rooms for both yoga and spin classes. Each of the treadmills, stair climbers, stationary bikes, and elliptical machines had its own individual small television. There were multiple weight-lifting machines, each grouped in their own stations. Free weights and benches took up the entire back corner of the space, which Sam estimated to be about four thousand square feet in total. Sam had to admit, the whole set up was rather impressive.

The joint was jumping with a vast array of humanity representing all levels of fitness. There were young people and older ones. There were the tight and sometimes vascular swollen physiques of serious bodybuilders, who were working mostly in pairs to spot for one another. There were also those that neglected, overweight bodies of those just starting on their road to fitness themselves. But the vast majority was made up of the average bodies of those who were merely serious about maintaining good health and leading a balanced life. People mingled in groups, chatting it up, and Sam felt the whole establishment had an air of cheerful morning camaraderie.

With curiosity, he watched Leslie on a treadmill as she slowly, yet resolutely, took step after step. Her hands were firmly grasping the sides of the treadmill and her body virtually reverberating with every footfall. Her trainer arrived a few minutes later. It was easy to spot the personal training manager, Kurt. Not only was he wearing a lanyard much like Mercedes', but he was dressed exactly the same gym's standard uniform. It consisted of black gym pants and a matching long-sleeved T-shirt that he just seen Mercedes in. Kurt had emerged from one of the offices that lined a wall of the gym. He was short and compact, lean but muscular, and carried a clipboard. He made his way over to Leslie's treadmill and after greeting her with an encouraging smile, checked the time elapsed on it and stood alongside her a minute or two more, chatting with her and taking notes on the clipboard he had with him. He then pushed the "Stop" button, took her water bottled out of the holder with one hand, and offered her his other, helping her down. They ventured off into the gym and out of Sam's sight line.

By the time he finished stretching, Sam began to feel others inspecting him in much the same way as he had been on them. The looks he received, however, were along the lines of open stares of lust from the women and competitive sizing up from the men who recognized the level of Sam's dedication and training. Wishing he hadn't forgotten his iPod, Sam picked a treadmill at the end of a long line alongside a wall on the main gym floor and turned it on in preparation for a run. The music from the stereo system would have to suffice and Sam found himself beginning to pound his feet to the beat as he went from a fast walk to a full out jog. The music was once again interrupted by the sound of Mercedes' voice piping through the speakers.

"Okay. You've been asking. It is horoscope time! Today's information is being supplied by the AJC!

Sam couldn't decide if he was amused or pissed that the music had stopped. He had just begun to find his groove and now he was being forced to listen to her. He made a mental note to talk to her about it later.

"If you are a Virgo, 'It's time that you realize that most things turn out better if you do them yourself. Don't believe everything you hear."

Sam shook his head, thinking he had a long way to go before she got to his sign of Taurus. He noticed two men in their early thirties getting onto the two treadmills next to his.

Mercedes continued. "For Libra, 'If there's confusion in your romantic life, it's only because you aren't asking the right questions. If you feel there's more to know, you are probably right.' Well, duh!"

Sam caught himself laughing and with another quick look around, he saw that other people throughout the gym were chuckling as well. Kurt and Leslie joined in the laughter as Michael was helping Leslie with the lateral pulldown weight machine that was about twenty feet away. Several people even took off their headphones to listen. Apparently, Mercedes' show was nothing new.

Mercedes pressed on. "Hey Scorpio! 'If business isn't booming right now, don't worry. The stars indicate that you are about to receive some news.' Gimme a break,"

The man closes to Sam addressed his friend louder than he would have liked in an effort to be heard over Mercedes. "Mercedes has issues."

Sam rolled his eyes. Jesus! Was every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the building on a first-name basis with her?

Mercedes' voice, now with an edge of annoyance, resonated one more throughout the building. "Does anyone else find these things ridiculous and not the least bit helpful? They all pretty much sound the same, so let me sum it up. Good luck with making it through your day. Stuff is going to happen to you. Now get out there and do the best you can! Now if anyone really needs to hear their horoscope for their own zodiac sign, stop by the front desk for your personal reading," The music switched back on.

"Thank God," the man on a treadmill away, turned to say to his friend. "I thought she was never going to shut up."

Sam, overhearing again, snickered, thinking he felt pretty much the same way, and picked his pace back up with the music again.

"Oh, I don't know," the man closest to Sam responded. "I think she's pretty funny. And she's not wearing a ring."

Sam's ears zoned in on the conversation and he cast a sideways glance to get a better look at the men.

"Dude, seriously? She's kind of fat, don't you think? She needs to spend a little less time behind that desk and little more time on this treadmill," his companion replied with a laugh.

Sam could feel the pulse in his ears pounding in time with his feet on the treadmill, only harder. "Try saying that to her face because you would be spitting out your teeth like Chiclets." Sam thought as his jaw started to clench up.

The man laughed. "You're crazy. Have you seen the muscle on her? You could bounce a quarter off her butt. Say what you want. Fat or no fat, I would wreck that chick. When I was done tapping that ass, she'd be walking like a cowboy for a week."

His friend scoffed. "As long as you don't lose your dick in her."

Sam, summoning up every scrap of self-control he possessed, he stopped the treadmill and got off. Retrieving his towel and his water bottle, he marched back up to the front of the gym where Mercedes was standing. This time she was chatting with two middle-aged women. He pointed his finger directly at her as he stomped out the door.

"You are quitting this job!" he shouted at her. He had never broke stride and vacated the building. By doing so, he had left both Mercedes and her customers to stare open mouthed after him.

"Who in the heck was that?" one of the women asked as Mercedes completely perplexed, looked from Sam's retreating from back to the gym and then back to Sam again. All the while, she was trying to figure out what in the hell just happened to even warrant such an outburst. She turned her attention back to the ladies in front of the counter.

"Ummm," Mercedes replied, feeling no joy at the fact that was about to say the words for the first time out loud. "I think that was my boyfriend."

"You think?" the other women laughed. "Honey, if I had someone who looked like that ordering me around, I'd have the decency to be sure. But bravo darling! Bravo!" she said as she craned her neck so she could get a better view of Sam's backside.

Sam got into his car and took a deep breath. He found himself staggered by his own reaction, which was nothing short of rage. It was so sudden and all encompassing. He had trouble deciding who had incensed him more. The jackass who'd cruelly made fun of Mercedes or the jerk that wanted to leave her bowlegged. He pounded his steering wheel. Reacting at that level to either scenario didn't make any sense. It had always been a given in his mind that men had fantasized about his other girlfriends. For Christ's sake, he'd dated several Playboy models. They had masturbated to their pictures with his blessing.

It was then that Sam realized why he was so furious. The woman Sam couldn't stop thinking about was not a skinny mini. Maybe not to the well experienced eye, but to society as a whole. Sam didn't jump off the treadmill to kick the shit out of that guy to defend both Mercedes' honor as well as his own. And he didn't laugh it off or ignore it as the immature malice of nameless miserable jackasses. Instead, he had stormed out of the gym in self-righteous anger and demanding that she go back to hiding within her house so he could satisfy his lust unfettered and undisturbed.

Sam laid his head on the steering wheel and released a broken sigh. He had been trying to convince himself that hiding Mercedes had been for her benefit. The reality was he wasn't yet willing to subject either of them to the possible judgement that would have accompanied the news of his making a commitment to her and settling down, especially when it was discovered that she was one of his clients.

This one woman had him forsaking all is prior reliable standards and ideals. All the positive thinking in the world wasn't going to change that. This was the same woman who had been perfectly find to have tagging along with him everywhere before they were dating. Now she was supposed to be kept hidden in order for him to enjoy her company. He wanted to shake loose from his brain the idea that she was beneath him. Those two men had spoken so freely. It had never even dawned on them that the man next to them would even know her, much less be sleeping with her. This wasn't about Mercedes at all. This was about society. It was about Sam. That he was still leery of stepping away from his preconceived notions of who he should and shouldn't be seen with and attached to. He had let himself be guided by what he thought would look best on his arm to promote what he did for a living. He swallowed the sickening feeling that he had just spent the majority of his life as one big marketing ploy, one that worked.

He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. He didn't even recognize himself anymore. He used to be balanced and detached, relaxed, and easygoing. Now it seemed he was regularly clawing his way out of a constant landslide of emotion, one that he was intent on hiding from Mercedes. If he kept it up, he would end up not only losing Mercedes, but losing himself as well. There was only one person who could help him make sense out of all of this. With that in mind, Sam sat back up, he reached into his glove compartment and pulled out his phone.

After to a quick text and a positive reply, Sam backed out of the parking spot and headed over to Mike's place.

* * *

**Sam is in a ball of confusion. He is stuck in a territory that he is not use to. He is used to men commenting about the women that he has been with, but this was the first time that he ever wanted to punch someone's face out! At least this time, Sam took a step into her world. Got to see her in her element.**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	17. Chapter 17

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, there would have been some episodes that would focus on drug awareness after Cory's death. They wouldn't have to mention Finn specifically, but sweeping it under the rug was not a good way to go. Especially for a show that always touts itself as educating people.**

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA. It is just me, myself, and I.**

* * *

The cleaning lady opened the front door and instantly recognized him as one of her bosses' closest friend.

"Good morning, Mr. Sam."

Sam stepped into the mansion after he had greeted Mike's housekeeper and provided polite chit chat, he made his way through the house and to the area in which Mike was located. He found that Mike was seated at the kitchen table, fully dressed and with coffee in hand, casually perusing the morning paper. He glanced up as soon as he heard that Sam had come into the room.

"Morning," Mike said. "Do you want to hear your horoscope?

Sam felt the pulse beat at his temple and his left eye started to twitch. "No thanks. Why don't you read the newspaper online like everybody else?"

"What can I say? I just love to be a rebel. Blame it on the influence of my wife."

"Speaking of Tina, where is she?"

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Sleeping. When you gave us the morning off, she felt like she had just been paroled from prison. Are you okay? It is not like you to cancel a session."

Sam tried not to express his overwhelming relief at the news that he would have his friend's undivided attention. He let out a rush of air. "I'm fine. I just need to pump some iron."

"Fair enough," Mike said mildly. With that, he placed down his coffee cup and rose from the table. "Let's go do this thing."

Mike led the way with Sam following closely behind through the remainder of the house to the Changs' extensive gym room. Sam immediately set about the business of choosing the heaviest barbells and pounded out set after set of chest presses. It was the surest sign of the pent-up aggression that he was currently feeling. He went from chest presses to the leg-press machine to dead lifts, followed by curl after curl, then crunch after crunch. Mike said nothing, even after it became apparent that he was going to be doing more spotting than lifting of his own. After twenty minutes, when Sam was fully lathered and fatigue had set in, he spoke.

"What would you do if Tina gained a lot of weight?" Sam asked, wiping the sweat off his face with the front of his shirt.

Mike held back his smile, walked over to a nearby closet, pulled out a towel and tossed it over in Sam's direction. He appeared to give the question some serious thought. "How much weight are we talking about here?"

Sam caught the towel and wiped his face again before coming up with a figure. "Let's say around fifty pounds."

Mike scoffed. "Shit! I plan to start packing that much on her the minute she tells me that she's having my baby."

Sam stood there stunned for a moment. "Come on. I am being serious here."

"So am I," Mike said seriously.

In exasperation, Sam tried a different tactic. "Okay, what if she wasn't getting ready to birth your fully-grown linebacker and gained that much?"

"Just woke up one morning fifty pounds heavier?" Mike asked.

"Yes."

"Like she went to bed and her thyroid exploded and she gained all of it overnight?"

"Ye. I mean no!" Sam tried to backtrack after he had realized how ridiculous the whole matter was sounding. "Her thyroid exploding would kill her."

Mike pressed on. "I'm just trying to get some parameters here. So, she's basically healthy? Like she gained it all gradually?

"Yeah," Sam finally said, feeling his friend's overly indulgent stare bearing down on him.

Mike took a minute. His lips tightly drawn together and considered the question before responding. "As long as she was truly healthy and it wasn't the result of a real illness or something traumatic that sent her spiraling and she could still do all the things we enjoy doing together, I don't think I would care."

"You really mean that, don't you?" Sam asked his friend. But he really didn't see the point in even asking that question because he knew that his answer was genuine.

Mike smiled. "I love my wife. She is my forever. I am going to grow old with that woman. She is going to be the mother of my children. No matter what she looks like, my love for her will never change. I fell in love with the person, not her dress size." he said honestly and without apprehension.

"And it really wouldn't bother you?"

"Why should it? When I fell in love with Tina, I fell in love with all of her. I've yet to meet her equal as far as beauty goes."

"You're a high-profile guy with a pretty big image to protect," Sam stated bluntly. "What about what other people might think?"

"Since when did I ever give a fuck about what other people might think?" Mike laughed. "I'm rich."

"What if what they said really hurt her feelings though?" Sam probed.

Mike instantly sobered and crossed his arms over his chest. "That's an entirely different ball of wax. To answer your question, I would be devastated. Scratch that - I was devastated. It was the only thing about that whole video mess a few years ago that I didn't think I could handle. For what the press and the public did to her, I still can't forgive myself for that." There was a sad look in Mike's eyes as he took a moment of reflection before he continued. "Anyway, are you going to tell me anytime soon what this is all about? You are really starting to depress me."

"Mercedes."

Mike dropped his arms and asked "What about her?"

"I don't know," Sam said hesitantly.

Mike smiled again. "Well, I don't know how much help I can be if you don't even know what's wrong."

"I know," Sam replied. He ran his hand through his sandy-blonde locks and exhaled in frustration.

"Would this by any chance have anything to do with your 'morning appointment' that had you shifting all your clients around?"

Sam confirmed it miserably. "Yes. And I am not proud of it."

"So, you went to the gym to spy on her? All covert-like?"

This time Sam could only nod before leaning his face into his hand and shaking his head.

"You still don't want people to know you're together, do you?"

"No," Sam mumbled into his own chest, still holding his head. It was then that a thought came back into his head. Mercedes didn't make one person in Bodyssey privy to the fact that they were seeing each other. Had she don't it to protect him or herself?

"You do realize this has nothing to do with Mercedes or her weight, don't you?"

"Yes!" Sam snapped and then he had straightened himself back up. "Go ahead. Tell me it has everything to do with me being an asshole."

Mike shook his head. "I wasn't going to say that either. But I do think that this is all about you."

At this point, Sam was tired of Mike's game of twenty questions and his mind-reading act. He settled his hands on his hips and demanded, "Are you going to lay you knowledge on me or what?"

Mike went over to the mini fridge and pulled out two bottles of water, He had handed one to Sam and he had opened up the other. He had tossed the bottle cap like it was a basketball and aimed it towards the small waste basket that was on the other side of the room. He missed. Guess it is a good thing that he is not playing for the Atlanta Hawks. "The way I see it, this isn't about Mercedes or her weight. You just chose to hide behind it instead of just facing the real issue. It's not about how you've deviated from your lifelong attraction to six-foot-tall blondes or the monthlong underground sex fest that you've been preoccupied with. It's not even about the fact that you went to that gym and found that at five o'clock in the morning that she is having a ball without you. The part that has you running for cover is the fact that you are scared that you had finally let somebody in. That there's someone out there that you care about more than yourself.

Sam went over to Mike's bottle cap and picked it up from the floor and dropping it into the waste basket. He took a minute to digest Mike's theory. "You think that's it?"

"I think that I am close at any rate," Mike replied. "Everything about this relationship with Mercedes is a departure for you and I am not just talking about her looks. There was no wham-bam whirlwind involved. It was a slow building of trust and respect that lead to the final steps of chemistry and attraction. Sounds like the perfect set up to me."

"Hey! Wait a minute," Sam interjected and he was starting to feel defensive, but he didn't have a clue as to why. "You said that the minute you had set your eyes on Tina, it was all over for you. No other female mattered. Hell! If memory serves, you practically stalked the woman. I was shocked that she didn't put a restraining order out on your ass."

Mike laughed again. "Yeah, but I was always open to the possibility that it would happen like that for me. Actually, I was sure of it. But we're are talking about you here. Ever since I met you, you've had this attitude that women would only gum up the works for you. You've always kept your emotional barrier up. I would go as far as to say that they always had to be so one-dimensionally beautiful so that when they figured you out, you wouldn't have to harbor any guilt that they wouldn't be able to move on to someone else. Suddenly, you're one step away from becoming accountable to someone. The minute you take Mercedes out somewhere and make the first introduction that she's your girlfriend, it is going to be all over for you.

"I've made the girlfriend introduction before," Sam said, trying in vain to make what he thought was a very valid point.

"Not contradicting a woman you're screwing when she calls herself your girlfriend is hardly the same thing," Mike replied.

"I did call Quinn my girlfriend before and you know it."

"Which one was Quinn again?" Mike asked with sarcasm. "Oh yeah! The one that you brought along to Fiji last year. I figured you just said that to lull her into believing she wasn't only your most recent plaything. We were halfway across the world. Her getting pissed would have ruined the trip for all of us. Besides, Quinn was just another revolving door. You go through women so quickly that there really isn't a point in learning their names. The only girlfriend that you have allowed us to get close to is an individual who you refuse to say publicly or privately that she is your girlfriend. How incredibly fucked up is that?"

'I fucking hate you right now," Sam groaned because he was unable to deny anything that Mike had just said.

"Hey, look," Mike easily replied. "This heart-to-heart crap is no picnic for me either. I could have done without play Dr. Phil at seven in the morning. But if you're freaked out, I have to do what I can to help you get your head on straight. You've been spinning your wheels about this for weeks."

"Why can't I keep my hands off my female clients?" Sam asked, getting closer to the heart of the matter but not fulling committing to it.

"Because this one isn't just a client. And why are you getting so twisted up about this? If anything, it'll look like you've finally taken your head out of your ass. She's a great girl and probably much better than you deserve." Mike joked, picking up two dumbbells and pumping out a quick set of lateral lifts. "And you're forgetting, you're really not that important. People don't give a shit about you either. They only give a shit about themselves. Once you let her keep her clothes on for more than five seconds and start taking her out, you'll see that. You might even enjoy breaking free of your pretty boy stuck on blonde image. It was getting sort of tiring anyway."

"I made a total ass of myself in that gym this morning," Sam confessed. "I left there basically telling her that she has to quit her job."

"That must have been fun to watch," Mike switched to hammer curls and wasn't too terribly concerned. "I'm sorry I missed it. You're going to have to turn that around, you know."

"You make it sound so easy."

Mike dropped the weights with a loud thud. "It is. You just have to tell her that you had a fit of jealousy and you're sorry. Girls become putty in your hands when they hear all of that emotional kid of crap. Damn dude! Love is making you stupid."

"I never said that I loved her." Sam made one final grasp at the straws of his life as he used to know it.

"You didn't have to." his friend replied. "It is written all over your face. But you might as well get it out of the way so you could have your sanity back."

Sam left the Changs' house only slightly less confused than before he got there. Grateful that Tina had not woken up. In his current state, he could never withstand her taking a turn at him. He was already muddled.

Nobody knew him better than Mike did. All of this fighting what felt natural was only making Sam crazy for no good reason. He wasn't be superficial. He was just in deeper emotionally than he had ever been before. It was easier to project the discomfort onto Mercedes. So, what if she wasn't a Victoria's Secret model. She was adorable and she excited him. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it. In hindsight, to think anyone would give a flying fig about who he chose to spend his time with as ludicrous.

Mike had been right about many of the things he had said, but not all of them. Sam was not in love. Sure, he loved Mercedes. He liked to believe he loved everyone. But he wasn't in love with her. He would never leave himself at that sort of disadvantage. Once it was said, it is out there in the airwaves and you cannot take it back. It was like some sort of noose that slowly strangled the fun out of everything. Love was an outdated concept that maybe worked for hopeless romantics like Mike, but his friend had always been the exception to the rule. Sam wasn't about to start buying into the notion that just because he was infatuated with Mercedes, he was in love. The only reason he was so interested was because she respected his space. He was actually doing some of the pursuing for once. She wasn't clinging to him and it represented a challenge. Good sex and common interests did not a lifetime commitment make and Sam was not about to ruin either by taking that sort of leave. Mercedes didn't seem ready to take it either. It was a non issue.

* * *

Sam got home, showered, and dressed for work. He wasn't thinking about anything other than getting his relationship with Mercedes back on track. With an hour to kill before his first client arrived, he got back into his car and pretty soon he had found himself back at Bodyssey. Damn car had a mind of its own.

When her shift was over and Mercedes had emerged, she found Sam leading casually against the driver's side door of her car.

"Hi," she said. Sam noticed that there was a puzzled look on her face. After his last parting words to her, he was not shocked and desperately wished that he could take those words back. "So, do you care to explain what happened in there earlier Sam?" she continued as she walked over to him.

He shook his head and exhaled loudly. Then he reached over and grabbed hold of her shirt where it covered her belly. He gave a tug and pulled her away from the spot where she was leaning. It achieved his desired result. Unbalancing her and bringing her crashing into the solid wall of his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and kept there despite several people walking by them to enter or exit the gym.

"It wasn't you" was all that he told her. Even though her eyes were searching for a deeper answer, he wasn't about to give her any. "I should be saying I'm sorry and I truly am."

Mercedes smiled up at him. Whatever happened, he would tell her when he was ready. He was there and apologetic. For now, that would be enough for her. "It's okay."

"It seems that I took some Benadryl this morning and I may have had a reaction to them." Sam mumbled. Even a bad excuse is better than no excuse at all. In the end, he lied because he knew that he didn't deserve her quick forgiveness for his actions."

"Histamine rage," she said in agreement. "Okay. That makes perfectly good sense to me."

Sam gave her a quick kiss before standing them both up straight. "I have to get to work."

She walked him to his car that was parked several rows away. They said nothing but intentionally kept playfully bumping into each other. When they reached his car, he opened his door and turned back to her. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Well there is my date tonight with George Clooney," she told him happily.

"My last client is at seven. I know that it doesn't leave much time, but maybe a movie or something?

"Netflix awaits," she said.

"No," he told her. "I want to take you out. I would suggest catching the end of the Braves game, but I know I need to have you home before you turn into a pumpkin."

Mercedes grinned up at him again. "No worries on that score. I don't have a job anymore."

Sam's look of surprise was followed by one of the barely contained joy. " You quit your job?"

Her grin grew wider and she glanced back at the building. "Sort of. I gave them my two weeks' notice and they promptly fired me. Seems that they don't handle rejection very well there. On the bright side, I get unemployment. But they did tell me that I could remain a member though. I may do that. I met some really nice people there. Guess I liked people more than I thought. Besides, I found that I actually liked their kickboxing classes and I can find my inner xen with yoga."

Sam's joy was short-lived as he realized that his actions may have been what had motivated her. "Oh my God, Mercedes, please tell me that this didn't have anything to do with my foolishness."

"Oh, Hell to the no." Mercedes was quick to set him at ease. There was a coy smile on her lips as she spoke. "I realized weeks ago that it was never going to work out. I was getting tired of falling asleep on your shoulder at seven-thirty every night instead of your arms."

"Be ready by eight." He kissed her before sliding into the driver's seat and rolled down his window. "Tonight, we celebrate!" Sam shouted out to her as he pulled out of his parking spot.

Mercedes stood out in the middle of the parking lot, shaking her head, and slowly coming to the realization that she officially has a hot boyfriend.

* * *

**When in doubt about your actions, blame it on the Benadryl!**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Once again, thank you all for the love and support! XOXO**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, I would make sure that the plus sized girls in the world could also have that dream, "Tiger Beat" kind of boyfriend. There was no word as to whether or not Chord Overstreet was going to come back for the third season. Due to this, Glee had to cast Mercedes' boyfriend. They chose someone who not only looked much older than her, but they chose someone who was hefty. It was like they were saying that only a big guy could be interested in a plus sized Mercedes. Plus, if I hear 'cocoa babies' one more time, I will scream. What fool came up with that line?**

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA.**

* * *

They started dating, with Sam slowly integrating Mercedes into his life. Other than that, not much actually changed. They did a lot of going out with Tina and Mike. There were charity parties, sporting events, concerts. There was even an evening spent at a local karaoke bar. Sam practically fell to his knees when Mercedes belted out her version of "Ain't No Way" to the crowd. Not only did she leave everyone in the bar spellbound, but Sam wanted to have his way with her right there on stage. Unfortunately, he noticed the looks of some of the guys in the room and they were thinking the same thing. His green eyes got darker as his jealousy kicked in. Good thing that cooler heads prevailed, because Sam had grabbed Mercedes shortly after her performance and headed straight to her house. The last thing that Sam wanted to do was to end up in a blurb in The Peach Buzz due to knocking a guy out senseless.

As time went by, she slipped into the man cave without him even noticing. Even though Sam didn't regard himself as much of a partier anymore, he had accepted every invitation in his attempt to show his newly minted status as taken. At first Mercedes was shy, she was not used to being thrust into new environments. Not to mention, that even though the weight loss was noticeable, she still wasn't quite use to her new body or the new outfits that she bought to go with it. Even though the package on the outside was smaller, on the inside, there were times in which she still saw herself as the overweight woman who had sat next to Sam on the plane. She found herself intimidated by the stares of the people Sam had introduced her to. Sam suffered from bouts of momentary discomfort as well. He felt defensive and at times troubling unsure when running into an ex. These exes are all long and all blonde. Up until now, he didn't realize how many ex's that he had. Seeing the ex's intrigued if not amused reaction as he introduced his pudgy cherub. Some of his friends and business associates weren't always so discreet about covering up their doubletakes. It made him wonder if this is what Mercedes was living with on a daily basis.

Sam was slowly discovering that the world was a rather superficial place and it made him embarrassed about his past behavior.

But when Sam and Mercedes were alone, he was confident in his choice. She willingly went along with whatever he chose to make important, even if his choice was time alone, which had become less and less frequent, as the sex with her was still so much fun. Hell, everything attached to Mercedes was fun, because even the most mundane things to him were brand new to her and she had embraced them fully. Still, he felt guilty for his spurts of nagging doubt.

* * *

Hey, do you have an extra toothbrush I can borrow?" Sam asked as he entered the bathroom one evening. Mercedes was standing in front of one of the sinks, staring at herself in the mirror. He could tell with one glance at her mirrored reflection that she was troubled. "What's the matter?"

Mercedes immediately came clean. "I don't know. Nothing. Everything. I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"I can't go to this party. I can't go to this party with you."

"Why not? It's a party. They're supposed to be fun. You suddenly have something against fun?"

"Sure. Fun for you. Look at you. You're gorgeous. You're practically a Greek God. Look at me. People will wonder what in the hell I'm blackmailing you with so you can go out in public with me.

Sam laughed while sneaking up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. "Stop being ridiculous. You're beautiful."

She looked at them in the mirror and tried to get the words past the lump in her throat. "No, Sam. You're beautiful. I'm so completely not. But thank you though. You are saying all the right things that a boyfriend is supposed to say to his girlfriend."

Sam straightened back up and grabbed her shoulders, then turned her around to face him. When she kept her eyes cast downward, he crooked his finger under her chin and lifted it, insisting she bring her eyes back up to his, and asked gently. "Mercedes, this isn't like you. The whole insecurity bit. What's this really about?"

She stared into his warm green eyes and struggled to find her voice. She had never lied to him and she wasn't about to start now.

The words just came tumbling out. "You think I don't see the differences in us? Sure, there is the color thing, but there are more to it than that. You think I don't see the way people look at us? Like I don't deserve you? Like I don't deserve to breathe the same air as you? I really don't mind so much when we're out in the general public. In fact, it's flattering in a demented sort of way. But tonight, is all about the beautiful people's club, otherwise known as your world. A whole room filled with sports and entertainment people. Anyone who is either one of those industries in Atlanta will be there. For the most part, I am use to accountants and nerds. That has been my scene for over a decade. Hanging around all those beautiful people is definitely out of my comfort zone. I feel like a freak." Mercedes turned her head to the side and cast her eyes downward almost as if she found her bathroom counter the most fascinating thing in the world.

Sam was momentarily taken aback. So, she had tapped into his innermost feelings. The ones that he wasn't so proud of. The ones he thought he had successfully repressed. The very ones that had crossed his mind just an hour ago. Tonight, would be different. Tonight, wasn't about a charity function. It was about the hottest ticket in town. Everyone who was anyone in Atlanta would be in attendance. Tonight, with Mercedes on his arm, he would be making a statement. He would be making a loud and clear statement. She was so astute, so in tune with him, whether he wanted her to be or not. It wasn't that she wasn't worthy, just that she wasn't what he was used to. Which in turn meant that all of the people he knew weren't used to it either. They would adjust, he was sure. She was so damn cute, standing before him in her pink cashmere sweater and her modest back wraparound skirt. How could he possibly explain to her that none of this was about her. That it was about his own personal growth. That he was proud to be seen with her.

He spoke evenly, his words measured. "Mercedes. I thought I had always been clear. It's not about the package, but about the whole package. You are easily the smartest, wittiest, most sincere person I know. Not to mention adorable and positively delectable." He placed his hands on both sides of her head and tilted her face up to him. He unhurriedly lowered his lips on hers, effectively silencing any further retort or complaint.

After he felt her tension give way when her hands creep around his waist, he opened his mouth, probing the warm recesses of hers. His hands moved down her back to cup each of her buttocks and with one motion, he lifted and deposited her onto the wide vanity that ran the length of the bathroom wall. The loud thud and subsequent creak of the suspended marble trying to support her weight stopped them both in their tracks. Sam pulled back and saw her eyes grow wide and filled with tears of mortification.

"This thing is used to having only Soft Soap, a toothbrush, and a hair dryer lying on it. So don't even go there," he told her gruffly and quickly kissed her again. Holding back the tears as well as the emotion that was behind them, she rested her hands on his shoulders and tried to focus on his warm lips that were simply demanding her attention. His fingers drifted to her knees and began to pull at the hemline of her skirt until most of her leg was fully exposed. He leaned forward more, pushing, until her back was fully against the mirrored wall before his lips mad their way down to her faintly perfumed neck. His hands wandering inside her skirt. He leisurely toyed with the elastic rim of her panties while she ran her hands through his hair and then stopped when he wedged his finger inside them to purposefully slide into her. She moaned with desire at the intrusion, dropping her hands, fully deposing of any lingering thoughts about anything except the feeling of his hand. He deliberately rubbed, moisture joining friction, and she spread her legs farther apart.

He suddenly withdrew, pulled her legs forward and lifted the skirt to the middle of her full thighs. He reached beneath the now bunched up material, stuck his hand under her bottom and insistently pulled at her panties. She wriggled and soon they were freed. He finished pulling them off and let them fall carelessly to the floor. He went down onto his knees and bringing her legs forward drew her closer to the edge of the vanity. He stuck his head beneath her skirt. The stark contrast of the cold marble against the skin on the back of her legs and his warm breath at her center was foreign and fantastic. When his lips touched the soft folds of her, she braced her hands against the marble and shifted to give him better access.

"Oh Sam," she breathed. The feeling of embarrassment of a totally different kind was strange and alluring. His tongue sensually danced around her core, his hand determinedly at her hips o hold her in place. He greedily licked and nipped and sucked, and all the while she squirmed and ground herself against him until he felt her starting to clench. His mouth was wet with her. Mercedes moaned, deep and guttural as he pulled away, unwilling to let her climax without him. He quickly stood and pulled her off the vanity as the both fumbled with his belt in a race to free the raging erection from his pants. She unzipped him and he hastily removed them and his boxer briefs. He was not willing to waste any more time than necessary before taking her. He dropped to the floor, bringing her down with him, and lay on his back. Mercedes lifted her skirt, straddled him and with his help, guided herself onto him.

"Yes, baby, yes," he groaned, filling her and reached under her sweater, not taking the time to remove her bra and instead pushing it up to massage handfuls of breasts. He circled his thumb around taut nipples and she joined him with a groan of her won. She pulled the encumbering sweater and bra up over her head and tossed them into a neighboring bedroom, desperate to feel his hands all over her.

She rode with him deep inside her. His thick, hard sex stretching her, passing all of her sensitive spots. Her rhythm sped up, matched by his pelvis moving in opposition, nearly removing himself from her, only to vigorously filled her again. His hands left her breasts to grab her roughly at the hips and hold her while he took over and gliding her up and down. It was a torture that was both relentless and exquisite. Mercedes threw her head back and gave herself over to his torment. Before long, she felt the familiar tingle that would soon leave her breathless, the tiny tingle that would suddenly explode into an uncontrollable fit of tremors. She surrendered, unable to do anything more than say his name over and over. It was more pleading and gasping with each repetition. It was music to his ears and he quickened his pace just a fraction more, his own release looming. He felt her stiffen above him and then she began to writhe in orgasmic spasms. He drove in one final time before shuddering into her.

She collapsed onto him and Sam held her tight, right on the bathroom floor.

"Let's get this party over with," she purred. "So, we can get back here and do this again."

* * *

It was the Atlanta Hawks extravagant beginning of the season party that was being thrown at an exclusive uptown hotspot. Invitations were even more sought after than usual after the team's championship win last year. Professional players from all of the Atlanta teams were among the attendees and enjoying to booze that was being paid for by the Hawk's organization. Sam and Mercedes were already at the aptly named Bases Loaded when Tina and her MVP husband arrived. The club was crawling with people, some Mercedes had met before, but most of them were new faces. Since the Atlanta Braves were in the middle of the World Series bout with the Texas Rangers, it was not only going to be a short night for Mike, but an alcohol free one as well. Mike had to be in top shape for game three the next night. It was his job to bring Atlanta a win. So, Mike and Sam mingled dutifully with fans and clients, Tina settled close by Mercedes' side and pointed out the famous and the infamous.

Mercedes and Tina stationed themselves at the bar along the back wall. It was the perfect spot, according to Tina. They could see everyone and they were close to the drinks. Mercedes spied Sam across the room. His head was cocked in conversation. She didn't think she would ever tire of watching him from afar.

Tina was scanning the room when in her peripheral vision she caught sight of potential trouble. A group of three women were clustered together. They were a trio of Versace wearing low brow skanks on the prowl. The type of women whose main purpose is trying to marry up. What better place to go then to a party that is attended by some seriously rich athletes? At the center was Quinn Fabray, Sam's last serious girlfriend. They'd lasted all of four months at the most. As soon as Quinn caught sight of her, she broke away from her friends and made a beeline to her general direction.

With Mercedes standing next to her, this will not be anything good. Quinn is a bitch with a capital B. Even worse, she is a thirsty bitch, so she is capable of doing anything. Since Mercedes hadn't seen the danger heading her way yet, Tina decided to get her out of the way. "Hey Mercedes, would you mind getting me a refill on this drink? These shoes are killing me and I am not sure if I could walk another step."

"Sure thing." Mercedes answered. "I'll be right back". With that, she went down to the end of the bar to get Tina's drink.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect, because once Mercedes back was turned, Quinn floated up beside Tina in all of her supermodel glory. Her flaxen mane was flowing, lips were perfectly glossed, her fingernails were ready to claw someone in the back.

"Hi Tina. Another year, another party."

"Nice to see you again Quinn." Tina tensed. If Quinn was going out of her way to say hello, Tina was pretty sure as to what would follow. "I heard that you were in California for a while."

"I was. I didn't stay long. I get in and get out. It's too weird out there," Quinn replied and then she got right to the point. "I thought I saw Sam when I got here."

Tina found that she had a choice to make. Quinn was not your average bimbo. She hadn't been too happy when Sam called her bluff and ended the relationship. Too proud to try reconciliation on her own, she'd called Tina for days on end in the hopes of getting Tina to plead her case to Sam. Needless to say, Tina had politely, but steadfastly, refused to do. Even if she had wanted to, Sam would see right through her. It wasn't a secret to Sam that Tina couldn't stand the woman. In fact, Sam would probably wonder what Quinn had on Tina to even suggest that he get back together with Quinn. Once Quinn's pathetic pleading calls had finally ceased, Tina had made a mental note to never again give her cell phone number to any of Sam's women. And for a while, Quinn remained persistently in the background, readily available, as she waited for Sam to come to his senses. But Sam did come to his senses when he fell for Mercedes, the kind of woman who could make someone like Quinn go ballistic.

Tina glanced over to Mercedes, who was chatting up Troy, one of Mike's teammates, while she waited for Tina's drink to be fixed. As she was looking at Mercedes, she wondered whether or not she should even introduce Mercedes to Quinn. The better place would be to get Quinn's questions answered so that Quinn could move on. If Sam was unfortunate enough to encounter her, he could deal with her himself.

"He's around here somewhere," Tina replied casually. "It is not my day to watch him."

Quinn didn't waste anymore time on formalities. "Rumor has it that he had settled on one of his protegees,"

"I don't know that I'd call her a protegee," Tina said, keeping her voice as low as possible.

"What magazine did he first see her in?" Quinn snickered, scanning random faces around the club.

"You make it sound like he picked her out of a catalog," Tina snapped. A feeling of dread was taking root in her soul. "He does have a life you know. Why don't you just get over him, Natalie? Move on,"

Hearing the distinct edge in Tina's tone as Mercedes had walked up with Tina's drink in her hand. Mercedes had instantly recognized the woman that was standing next to Tina. It was the woman in the pictures with Sam when he was vacationing in Fiji, she was certain.

"Tina, relax," Quinn said giggling. "Why so uptight? I realize that Sam is your favorite big-brother charity case. I was just making conversation. She must be really something if you're making this much of a fuss. I bet a part of you isn't ready to see him settled down either."

But Tina is not the type of person to be backed into a verbal corner, wasted no time in biting back. "My, oh my Quinn! Would you like something to drink dear? You look a little thirsty."

Quinn fixed her frosted blue eyes on her.

Mercedes felt as if she'd just been handed her cue. Refusing to be spoken about like she was a figment of someone's imagination, she was almost itching for the altercation that she was pretty sure would follow. It was then that she had decided to let her voice be heard. "He settled on me," she said. "Hi, I'm Mercedes."

Quinn's mouth dropped open. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Of course, she had heard the rumors, but those are just rumors … right? Nobody had ever been outright rude in describing Sam's new girl, but the word "hot" was never used either. Quinn didn't even know how to compete with a woman like this. In her eyes, Mercedes was a chubby, average kewpie doll. And this was what the woman looked like after seven months of tutelage. Quinn could only imagine what Mercedes must have looked like when Sam first got a hold of her. There was not way it could have been love at first sight, nor could it be a passing fancy. There was also no way for Quinn to compete. What was she supposed to do? Gain sixty pounds, abandon her makeup bag, and stop wearing heels? It took her a nanosecond to size up the situation. If this brood mare was Sam's choice, he had to be one step from going down the aisle. She no longer had anything to lose. With a dazzling smile and a calculated risk, Quinn smoothly extended her claws.

"So it's true then. Hi. Or shall I say, 'quack'?"

Tina paled and her eyes grew wide, confirming to Quinn that the risk had paid off. Sam had used his "beautiful swan" line on her too. Mercedes turned towards Tina to share a look that said, "I just blew this bitch's mind", and saw that Tina was shooting daggers with her gaze at Quinn. Mercedes felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. The look on Tina's face indicated there was surely a hidden meaning to the word that only she and Quinn knew about. Mercedes was a butt of some inside joke. She just knew it. Mercedes grabbed Tina's arm before turning briefly back to Quinn.

"Pardon us. I have to go and blow my beak"

Mercedes weaved Tina through the crowd to the ladies' room and rounded on her before the door closed. "Why did that woman just quack at me?

"How should I know? She's bat shit crazy." Tina was never good at pretending under pressure, especially without Mike being there as her wingman.

"I'm the one who's crazy if I believe that. I saw your face Tina. Tell me." Mercedes could feel the insides beginning to twist into knots.

Tina's teeth bit into her lower lip. It was painfully obvious that Mercedes knew nothing of Sam's favorite comparison. Sam had really dug a hole with this and it was so unlike him to let such a disparaging remark get out. "It's no big deal. Trust me, it isn't. When you first started training with Sam, he just gave you a nickname. That's all."

"A nickname? About a duck? Tell me. Now." If it wasn't so bad, why was Tina making such a fuss to conceal it? Mercedes was sick to her stomach. Unless the next words out of Tina's mouth was "Daffy", her heart was about to break. Tina could only shake her head, her lips tightly drawn together and then she became unreasonable fixated on the hand dryer. It hit Mercedes like a painful brick wall falling down upon her. Mercedes whispered it to herself. "It's 'ugly', isn't it?" She swallowed hard, her throat feeling as if it had been filled with concrete. "He called me an ugly duckling."

As soon as Tina heard it, she hastened to soften the blow, panic-stricken. "He says it to all the women he trains. He tries to motivate them by getting them to imagine themselves as the swan, you know, the 'after' picture. He even said it to me when I started training with him. But look at you know, Mercedes. You really are a beautiful swan.

"Just don't take what Quinn says seriously." Tina had continued on. "Quinn is just an evil, narcissistic bitchy shrew who is extremely jealous of you. Mercedes, you have something that she wanted. Sam kicked her sorry ass to the curb months ago. She had expected Sam to fall at her feet like other men do, but it seriously burned her non-existing ass when he gave her walking papers instead. Regardless of that, being a bitch comes naturally to her. In other words, she is a model and she doesn't eat. Right now, Quinn is being pushed out of the modeling world by 14 years because at 28, she's an old hag. She was looking to have Sam put a ring on it as a backup plan, strictly for financial reasons and not out of love."

"Mercedes, look at me," Tina commanded. Mercedes had no choice but to concentrate her vision on her. If she didn't, she knew that she would fall apart. She was determined to concentrate on the one person in the room that she could call a friend.

"Thank you," Tina said and then she went on. "The one thing you have to understand, Sam dated her. That is past tense. Quinn is not on his arm, you are. It is pissing her off and that is why she said what she said. Not only to get back at you, but to get back at Sam as well. Don't give her the satisfaction."

Calling Tina an ugly duckling was like referring to that diamond from Titanic as costume jewelry. Besides, if what Tina was saying was true, Mercedes would have heard Sam use the term during their workouts, eve one. She wouldn't be hearing it for the first time at a party full of his friends. But clearly, that what she really was to him. She would never be beautiful enough to be his equal. She would always be the duck. It certainly explained why he begged off from her side as soon as they had arrived, to leave her to be ridiculed by his prior conquest.

Mercedes smiled a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Oh, yes. You're right. That really is nothing. Knew about it all along. That nasty bitch just threw me, that's all. I can't let her know that she had caught me unaware. Well, enough of this doom and gloom. We had better get back out there before the boys think that we've left."

The rest of the evening felt like it was moving painfully slow. No matter how hard she tried, her confrontation with Quinn and the words that echoed after it, kept doing a constant loop in her mind. Every face that Mercedes saw after that seemed to be mocking her. The eyes of every person Sam had introduced her to had held an insinuation. Quinn kept her distance from them and left early, but not before spending quality time staring at her smugly from across the bar. She watched the whole night unfold as if she was looking through the lens of a camera. She was present but detached. Pleasant, but monotone. What she didn't realize was that while it was true that she was being stared at, it had very little to do with her. It had everything to do with the fact that his friends and business associates, were witnessing a miracle. A miracle being that Sam Evans, the most aloof, standoffish, opposite of public displays of affection, was spending more than half the night with his hand securely holding hers. His friends have finally met the woman that had put an end to his playboy ways.

If only Mercedes had understood that at the time, it would have saved her a lot of pain.

* * *

**Mercedes worst fears have reared its ugly head courtesy of Quinn! If only Tina were a better liar. **

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I am having so much fun doing this. Thank you for reading this and indulging me by even taking a glance at this. From this chapter onward, it is going to be more me than the author. I wasn't happy with the last few chapters of the book, so I wanted to flesh it out a little more. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, Kurt would have been a much better friend to Mercedes or at least I would have written a reason why Kurt had the sudden change around. It seems that the fanfictions had a better explanation than the show even bothered to give. **

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA.**

* * *

She told him on the way home that she had a headache. Too much alcohol and too much loud music were to blame according to Mercedes. That the only thing she needed was some Tylenol and her warm, comfy bed so she could get some rest. Sam admitted that she seemed off, but didn't push the issue. He did convey that he was disappointed that he wouldn't be spending the night, but he had understood. He dropped her off at her house. As soon as she got through the front door, she went to the phone and dialed.

"Hello?" Marley answered sleepily.

"You were right." As soon as Mercedes had her the voice of her lifelong friend, the tears started to fall and they refused to stop. Ever since she heard about what Sam really thought about her, she had held the tears in. The urge to hold her head up high at the party was strong, especially around Quinn. Now that she was by herself, she gave herself permission to just the emotions go.

"Mercedes? Right about what? Are you okay?" Marley asked, instantly recognizing the emotion that was in Mercedes' voice, she woke up immediately.

"About Sam. About everything," Mercedes choked out.

"That rotten snake! He dumped you?" Marley screeched a little louder than she planned and that caused Ryder to stir.

"Worse!" Mercedes sniffed loudly, hating the fact that she was crying at all. "He made a fool of me. A complete and utter fool of me."

"Mercedes, calm down. You're not making any kind of sense. You told me things were going absolutely fine between you two. What did he do?

Mercedes took a deep breath, grabbed a tissue out of a box on the counter and wiping her nose with it. "He's been calling me his ugly duckling. I found out about it from some bitch he used to date. At a party we went to tonight. Can you imagine? If she knew about it, then everybody knows."

Marley pushed herself up into a seating position on her bed. She covered the receiver of her phone with her hand and turned her attention to Ryder. "I'm sorry I woke you baby. It's Mercedes. I'll take it downstairs and you go back to sleep."

"Is she okay?" Ryder wanted to know.

"Right now, she is not making much sense," Marley whispered. "I will let you know. Go back to sleep."

Marley swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood up, grabbed her robe off a nearby chair and left the room. "Sorry about that Mercedes. I had to step out of the room. So let me get this straight. You went to a party tonight and to quote Desperate Housewives, 'you had met the competition and she is a slut'. This ex told you, in not so many words, that you were an ugly duckling because that is what Sam was calling you behind your back?"

"YES!" Mercedes cried into the phone.

"What is this, some kind of a joke?" Marley was virtually speechless. "Are you sure?"

Mercedes felt fresh tears starting to build up again in her eyes. She impatiently dashed at them with a new tissue. Marley's quiet astonishment only served to drive home just how despicable it sounded. "I wish it was a joke. Even Tina couldn't deny it."

"M-maybe it's a hot, buff guy thing? Borderline insulting terms of endearment?" Marley stammered as she tried her best to put on a positive spin to Mercedes' nightmare.

"If so, then the hot, buff guy thing is not for me!" Mercedes practically shouted before blowing her nose. Weeping again, she added, "I guess I should be congratulating myself. I must have gotten down to a weight where he thought it was worth his while by taking me out and showing off his crowning achievement. I was finally fit to be seen with him in public. He could have at least had the decency to say all of that crap to my face. That way when I heard it from someone else, it wouldn't have come out of left field."

"You just used a baseball term there," Marley suddenly smirked.

"Why wouldn't I? I live sports all day long," Mercedes snorted and then started venting again. "I watch ESPN twenty-four hours a day. I have seen more hours of that channel in one week than I did in ten years of marriage with Anthony. The ironic thing about all of that is the fact that there are times in which I still have no clue as to what he's talking about. I made everything that was important to him, important to me. And for what I tell you? So, I can be his best buddy until he gets tired of playing with me? He never once made a plan based on anything I like to do. Like going to Ferncliff, seeing a musical at The Atlanta Fox or going to a festival. Maybe go to Six Flags and ride a roller coaster with my arms up. Hell, even a damn opera!"

"Since when do you have an interest in opera?"

"That's not the point!" Mercedes snapped. "The point is, I had lost myself in him. I was so blown away by the fact that he was interested in me, that all I could think about was how to keep him. Like I should consider myself so fucking lucky to have him. I had misgivings all along that something wasn't right about the whole relationship, but he made me feel paranoid for even thinking it. All the while he's been looking at me like some sort of testament to how fabulous he is. And whose side are you on here?

"I'm on your side, but you have to admit, before it got all messed up, it sure did sound like you were having a blast."

Mercedes stopped to take a deep breath. "What are you saying?"

Marley waited before answering. "I'm just suggesting that maybe it isn't all that bad. I haven't seen the two of you together and in the beginning, I had my reservations, but from everything that you have told me, he seems nice enough. You always sounded like you were having so much fun with him. Who cares if you were doing all of think that he likes to do? When you first met him, you didn't give a crap about anything anyway."

"It almost sounds like you are defending him." Mercedes sniffed again.

Marley clarified. " No way. Remember, we're M & M. I am pro Mercedes and you know it. I'm just wondering if maybe you're not a better fit with him than you think. Okay, so the guy made a bonehead move and said something unflattering about you. Maybe he did it before he really knew you. It's not like he consistently refers to you a troll living under his bridge.

"Neither one of us knows that. Maybe he does. And you just don't understand," Mercedes said, her eyes welling up again. "It's not that he said it, it's that he never said it to me. Which means it holds a ring of truth for him. I can't stay with him. Not if he thinks that he's better than me."

"So did you tell him to get lost?" Marley asked, switching gears. By the sound of Mercedes' voice, changing her mind was virtually impossible. Marley knew Mercedes' quiet determination when she heard it.

"No." Mercedes scoffed at her own stupidity. "I just stood there like an idiot the whole night, knowing that they were all laughing behind my back and not saying a word."

"That doesn't make you an idiot, Mercedes. It makes you tough and a better person."

"You know what, Marley?" Mercedes sighed desolately. "I can't keep doing this. Not if ten pounds means he's going to be finished with me. Now that I know that this is out there, I feel like he's not into me, but his own creation. I am a real live version of the Bride of Frankenstein. Every time I see him, I am going to ask myself if it's in the back of his mind. I went along with everything that man wanted. I was afraid that if I didn't, he would walk away and would find someone who did. I catered to him and never once made him even work for it. I couldn't stop thinking that he was much better than I deserved. Now I know that he really was thinking the same thing too. I just can't do this anymore. I don't even want to."

"And you shouldn't have to. It was him that didn't deserve you. None of them deserve you. This whole thing just breaks my heart," Marley said sadly. "I knew that he was too good to be true. People like him are never held accountable for acting like assholes."

Mercedes sniffled loudly. She took a moment before saying. "But what if they were?"

"Were what?"

"You know, held accountable." There was another pause and Mercedes asked, "Do you think you can get any time away?"

"I guess so. I don't see a problem. Besides, Ryder could watch the kids." Marley answered slowly. Then the lightbulb went off in her head as she had imagined the wheels of Mercedes' brain was just spinning around. "Mercedes? Do I have to put bail money aside? Why do I get the feeling that you're up to something?"

"Because I am. There'll be a ticket waiting for you at the Delta counter. I will let you know when."

* * *

It was the Changs' Annual Halloween Costume Party. Every year they throw the gala fundraiser so they could raise money for Children's Healthcare of Atlanta as well as the local Make-A-Wish foundation. It was a hard ticket to get, mainly because it was invited only and you had to make sure that you bring your checkbooks. It took months for Tina to plan and she was quite proud of it.

The mansion had been transformed into a haunted castle. From the entrance gate on, jack-o-lanterns and shadowy ghouls graced the lawn. Creepy music started at the bottom of the driveway and led all the way to the front door, which was covered in cobwebs and mist. At the entrance to the Changs' ballroom were two dry ice machines that blasted eerie clouds of fog as each guest passed by them. The great room was also theatrically decorated and forebodingly dim, with the exception of the strobe lights that flashed to the bass of the DJ driven dance music. In half-hour intervals, the house lights came on for about ten minutes so that the guest could mingle, eat, and admire the other party goers costumes. These people brought their "A" game when it came to costumes. They were completely elaborate and was way beyond anything that Party City could cover.

The mood at the party was even more spectacular due to the fact that Mike had driven home the final home run last night that brought the World Series Championship trophy to Atlanta. Now that the season was over Mike allowed himself to take a temporary vacation from his usual body conditioning routine. The drinks flowed, the dancing was done freely, and laughter abound. It was a carefree night and Tina simply loved the vibe.

An hour into the party, Mercedes still had not shown up. Sam arrived, alone and assured Tina that he had spoken to Mercedes and everything was fine. "She's just running late. She has been fighting a cold all week." he told his hostess through the wads of cotton in his cheeks, the glue on his Godfather mustache was pulling slightly.

Tina had no choice but to believe Sam and move on. She had guests to mingle with, caterers to supervise. It felt good to have something to do again. Something that she could take credit for. When she first brought up the idea to Mike a few years ago to hold an annual costume party, Mike had initially balked at the idea, but one look at him stomping around in his big green feet and leafy toga made all the finagling worth it. They were posing for a photographer from the AJC when Mercedes walked through the door.

Luckily, they had just taken their pictures, so the smiles were still pasted on their faces. With perfect timing, Mercedes came in just before the DJ's set was over and the lights went up. When she had spotted Sam, she headed over as she had ignored all others and made her way over to him. As people stared to notice her, a path cleared. It was almost like the parting of the Red Sea.

Sam's pleasure at seeing Mercedes changed as soon as he got a good look at her costume. She was wearing a dress not unlike Björk's infamous Academy Award gown. It was far too small because Mercedes was busting out of it. The hideous swan boa, complete with head and beak, was threaded through a plastic six-pack holder with a couple of Coke cans still dangling from the rings. The bird's eyes had a big X's on them. A cardboard slice of pizza with real pepperoni pasted on was duct-taped on its beak. Unwrapped Twinkies and Devil Dogs hung from the dress hem, some of them crushed within the feathers. Other feathers were dipped in chocolate. People were beginning to stare. Cameras flashed. She was a messy sight. But Mercedes was oblivious to the attention. Her eyes were locked on Sam, her mouth was frozen in the same spiritless smile that she had been wearing for a better part of a week when she was forced to come in contact with any of them.

Sam felt the heat rise up his neck, took a quick look at the people around him and spoke to Mercedes in a very shaky Vito Corleone.

"What's with the getup babe?

"I'm a swan. Get it?"

And then in front of all of Sam's friends, his colleagues, and the press, Mercedes hauled off and clocked him. Right after that, all hell broke loose.

A deafening "Oh" erupted and the room brightened like a gigantic flashbulb. From the corner of his rapidly swelling eye, Sam caught a brief glimpse of the Jolly Green Giant and Betty Boop, their jaws were slack. Various versions of shock on the other partygoers faces became a whirling blur. And as the birds started to sing and stars swirled around his head, he saw the remnants of a retreating fudge crusted tail waddling away, back into the fog from where it came. Before completely losing his balance, Sam said:

"She could have been a contender."

* * *

The party was over in every sense of that phrase. Mercedes already knew the layout of the house, so when she disappeared through a side door, she seemed to magically vanish. She left bits of broken cake and pure pandemonium in her wake. Mercedes was a memory before security could get their hands on her. Sam never actually lost consciousness, so when they questioned him, he insisted the situation go no further. Mike and Tina want it left alone as well because they understood why it happened. Word of the incident spread like a quick moving brushfire. But it happened so fast and there were so many guest going and going that by the time the night was over, the story had morphed into Sam's walking in on some woman dressed like the devil's dog trying to make off with the silverware and a fight ensuing.

At least he got to sound like a hero and not the jerk he really felt like.

Now there were three of them left: Sam, Mike, and Tina. They were in the den and Mike was pouring them all well-deserved, stiff drinks from behind the bar. Sam sat on the couch holding an ice bag to his eye. Tina sat beside him, concern evident on her heavily made up face. He looked so pitiful, and it wasn't just because of the impending shiner that would be following him around for the next week either. He knew that he had fucked up. Hell, they all had.

"I think the swelling has gone down." She tried to sound optimistic.

"Twenty-four to thirty-six hours, but thanks anyway." Sam shifted the bag of ice on his face.

"Thank God you didn't go with calling her Frankenstein, otherwise she might have broken a bone." Tina gave a halfhearted smirk, and then the three of them exchanged silent, meaningful looks. All pondering the validity of the statement.

Tina came from around the bar with all three drinks and set two of them down on the table, holding on his own. "What do you think that was, a right hook?"

"Nah. Her left foot was out. Definitely a cross. I have to admit that it was perfectly executed. I think I even saw her hand twist right at the end. I knew all those kickboxing classes that she had been taking would come back to haunt me." Sam laughed at his own joke, despite the added throbbing it caused. He sighed. "You know, all the references to birds and animals are supposed to be very Zen. The whole man-being-one-with-nature thing."

Tina sat back, kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the coffee table. She took a swallow of bourbon. "Sam, I'm really sorry that I didn't tell you," she said earnestly. "And she really seemed fine when she had found out. You could have tried to cut this off at the pass. I swear, I never knew the girl had such a poker face. In all that time, she had never let it slip that she was pissed. I am truly impressed with her acting skills."

"Well, I am impressed with her boxing skills because Mercedes got your ass good! Guess you have learned a very valuable lesson. To never piss off a woman." Mike stated as he leaned back on the couch and took a swig from his glass. "So, what are you going to do now man?"

Sam took a moment before he replied. "Honestly, I don't know. What I do know, is that right now, I am not only in the doghouse, but I am underneath the doghouse." He turned the ice bag over and placed it right back on his eye. "I wish I could blame Quinn for this fiasco, but at the end of the day, I am to blame. I didn't think of it as being anything bad, but I can see how Mercedes would view it. Especially with the self-esteem issues that stretch back to childhood."

"Don't you dare let that bitch off the hook," Tina spat. "Quinn knew exactly what she was doing with all of that quack business. She is nothing but a vindictive shrew who is only happy when she is making everybody else miserable."

"Trust me, I am not letting Quinn off the hook. That woman is dead to me now."

"So, what are you thinking about?" Mike wanted to know.

"I'm thinking that I have just managed to screw myself out of the first real relationship that I have ever had in my life." Sam replied back. "I am thinking that we all have turned the most beautiful swan that I ever knew into the ugliest duck around."

Mike didn't miss a beat. "That was very poetic. Wouldn't you agree Tina?"

"I certainly would honey. I would also add corny. Is this where we applaud, or do we wait for the encore?"

They both looked at Sam as to wait for an answer. Mike piped up. "We could wait for the encore, but we'd just have him wasting more time before going to get her back," They waited patiently for Sam to realize the obvious.

Sam finally realized what he had to do. With that, Sam took one sweeping bow and without another word, he ran to the door.

He was going over to Mercedes' place. He had to make her understand. He had to do everything he could to get his woman back.

* * *

Mercedes and Marley walked inside Mercedes' house in complete silence. Mercedes was still in shock that she actually slugged Sam in public. Marley was just observing her friend's body language as well as her emotional well-being. Right now, Mercedes was a walking zombie and Marley wasn't quite sure when the breakdown will happen.

What will happen once the shock wears off and the reality of what she had just done decides that it wants to take over?

Since Mercedes found it rough to drive her car wearing her swan outfit, Marley took care of the driving duties. Once she made it through the front door and locked it behind her, Marley tossed the keys in a bowl that was located on the table near the front entrance. The only thing that Mercedes could do was stand there. Her doe eyes that usually sparkle appeared to be glassed over and dead. Once Marley saw that, she had decided it was time to break her silence.

"Why don't you go upstairs and get out of that swan fat suit." she commanded. "It is going to be really hard to have a serious discussion with you when you are dressed up like Swan Lake on an eating binge." Marley then walked over to Mercedes and asked her to turn around so she could unzip her costume. She had pulled the zipper down to the lower part of Mercedes' back before speaking once again. "I am going to go and make us some coffee. Call me if you need any more help taking that thing off."

Mercedes just looked at Marley with a blank stare. Kind of like she was not looking at her, but looking right through her. The only thing that she was capable at this point was to nod her head and walk slowly up the stairs to her room. Climbing the stairs felt like that there were weights on her ankles. Mercedes was emotionally drained and she knew it. She found that lifting her leg to reach the next step was taking a lot of work. In the end, she had numbly found her way to her room.

Once she got inside, Mercedes proceeded to strip the costume off her body and she tossed it on the corner where it would lay there in a heap. She took off her underwear and headed towards the shower. The need to wash this night off her body was strong, overpowering in fact. But instead of washing her body off, she had stood underneath the shower for twenty minutes. She just allowed the water to cascade over her. She wouldn't cry. Not anymore. Not for anyone and definitely not for him. She looked down at her swollen knuckles, the water washing over them. It was only then, that she allowed herself a bitter laugh. Laughing at the thought of the aftermath of her actions. She had wished that she had stayed around to see their faces. The vision of Sam's face as her fist made contact with it was still vivid in her mind. But none of it mattered now. Tomorrow she would start anew, wiser, and stronger. No one was going to make a fool out of her again. She refused to be the butt of anyone's jokes.

Mike was right about her. She really did have potential. Who would have thought it would be the potential to create mayhem for all of them.

By the time that Mercedes went down the stairs, she saw that Marley was sitting on her couch, her socked feet were twisted to the left on top of the couch and she had a hot mug of coffee in her hand. An episode of Dateline on ID was on her television screen.

"You know, I think that I saw that episode." Mercedes said as she walked into the room.

"I think at this point, just about everyone has," Marley replied. "Looking at them makes you realize that your life really isn't all that bad. Take this one for example, 'Mean Girls". A pregnant sixteen-year-old teenager plots with her friends to murder the father of her baby because she feared that her boyfriend would go after full custody of their baby and she didn't want that to happen. Makes me a nervous wreck when I think about my kids hitting their teenage years."

"Until the "Catch A Predator" series happened, I didn't realize how many sick and perverted people are out there." Mercedes commented as she walked over to the couch.

"Chris Hansen is pretty good. However, I prefer the episodes that have Keith Morrison hosting." Marley said. She had bent over, picked up Mercedes' mug and handed it over to her as she sat down. "Black, cream and no sugar, right?"

"That's right. Took me a little time to get used to having my coffee this way. But it is not so bad." she said as she took a sip of the hot liquid. "This is great. Thanks Marls."

Marley just smiled her response, picked up the remote and turned the volume down on the TV. "How are you feeling?"

"What do you mean?"

"Cede, it is not that difficult of a question. Now that you have had your act of revenge, do you feel better now? Are you satisfied?"

"It doesn't matter how I am feeling at this moment. The damage has been done and there is nothing that I could do to change it. The only thing left to do is to pick up the shattered pieces of my life and move on."

"Running away you mean," Marley retorted.

"I am not running away! I just want to start fresh."

"Moving back to Lima is not starting fresh! Selling this house is not a fresh start! Cede, that is running away because you are too scared to face the aftermath that you have caused. You were ballsy enough to sucker punch Sam in the middle of a charity party, yet you don't have the balls to face him? To ask him why he would be an asshole and call you an ugly duckling? To find out why in all line of reason was it okay humiliate you like that? To have the balls to at least tell Sam bye to his face?"

The only thing that Mercedes could do is stare at her best friend and she piled on the speech. Throwing questions at her that she didn't know how to answer to or simply didn't want to face. So she did the only thing that she could do, she fought back. "I thought you were on my side!" she shouted back as she placed her coffee mug back on the table. The last thing she needed was to have the hot liquid splash out over her hand.

"Girl! I am on you side! I've been on your side since Kindergarten, so that is a really stupid question. You are Thelma to my Louise. I am always going to be on your side and that will never change, but that doesn't mean that I can't call you out on your bullshit when you are wrong. In this case, you were wrong. All I am saying is that you should have talked about this with Sam in private instead of humiliating him in public like that. But now that you did it, you need to be ballsy enough to face the consequences. You are going to regret if you don't.

"I trusted him. You of all people, know how hard it is for me to let other people in? For him to go around … it was like my childhood all over again. Ugly duckling, really? Then for him to go and show me off like I was some sort of successful science experiment? It was just too humiliating." Mercedes explained.

"I've heard that all week. I even have helped you pack everything up. I've bought the supplies for your costume and sewed the damn thing. I have listened to you vent and call Sam everything but a child of God. I've held your hand every time you had started to cry over him. I had kept my mouth shut because I know that you were not going to hear me until you have done what you wanted to do. Now that you have done it, I can say it now. You had humiliated him simply because he had humiliated you? What are you? Twelve!

"No!" was the reply that Mercedes had shouted.

"Damn right! We are women in our thirties. Maturity is the rule of the game, not the childish pranks that we played back in the day. Did you even stop to consider that maybe none of these people knew that Sam was your trainer? It is not like they had even seen you before your weight loss. It is not like Sam had carried a 'before' picture of you. Sam just introduced you as his girlfriend, not as a client. Instead of enjoying the label of girlfriend, you had allowed his ex to get into your head. Not just any ex, but an ex with a grudge. Now your relationship with Sam has imploded and that skank is off somewhere laughing hysterically."

At this point, Mercedes knew that what Marley was saying had a ring of truth to it. Lord knows that the truth was doing its best to battle down the walls that she had put up to block to prevent any penetration. But if she really heard it, she knew that she would be overcome with guilt and to her, that was a much worse option.

"You know what we do in the Lynn house? We talk things out. No one goes to bed angry. We don't run away from our problems. We face things head on and that is what you need to do. That is what you should have done instead. The night that you had found out, you should have talked to him and heard him out. Let him explain himself before you go all Rambo on him. That's …." Marley was interrupted when the doorbell rang.

She got up to check to see who it could be at this hour. "As I was saying, that's what you do in an adult relationship." Marley got to the door and looked through the peephole. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was.

* * *

**Did Mercedes go too far with her reaction? Payback is a bitch, but was this necessary? Looks like Sam is going to need his body armor on if he is going into the lion's den. Will he convince Mercedes to take him back or is it too late?**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	20. Chapter 20

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, that season 6 crap of Sue hypnotising Sam wouldn't have never happened, much less would have been put down on paper. Not only were the writers idiots for even created it, they were even bigger idiots to not even have Sue reverse it. **

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. If only I got good grades at punctuation. That, and I am not using a BETA.**

* * *

"Who is it", Marley heard Mercedes ask.

"Considering the fact that I have yet to meet the original, but based upon pictures that I have seen, it appears to be Sam." Marley replied.

"Sam!" Mercedes said as she shook her head. "I wasn't expecting him. At least not tonight. I can't face him right now."

The only thing that Marley could do was to use her eyes to make her plea that she needed to talk to him. But she knew that Mercedes simply was not quite there yet. Upon realizing this, Marley shook her head and sighed. "I've got this. Go make yourself scarce." It was time for Marley to have some fun.

Mercedes went up the stairs and Marley opened the door and looked him up and down with disdain. "Just because I believe that Mercedes was dead wrong in handling this situation, doesn't mean that I am going to make it easy for this pretty boy." Marley thought to herself.

But when Marley opened the door, she found someone that even when he was disheveled and thrashed, Sam was every bit as spectacular as his pictures. The pictures she had caught Mercedes staring at ever since she had flew into town. Always with hurt look in her eyes. It was almost like a puppy staring out the window in hopes of seeing their owner come home. So, this was the man she'd watched her friend cry for the better part of a week. Marley was ready for him. Her eyes finally settled of his bemused face.

"I need to see Mercedes," Sam said without any preamble.

"My friend, if she wanted to see you, she would be standing here. Instead you've got me."

Sam blinked. Who was this tall, wispy woman with long honey blond hair and cold dark eyes? "I'm Sam Evans. Who in the hell are you?"

Marley raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I know exactly who you are. Who am I? The person you had better start being a whole lot nicer to if you have any hope of getting past this door."

Sam stared, dumbfounded. He could forget about trying to be intimidating. After all, hostility was practically radiating out of her. It was plain to see charm wasn't going to work on her either. Whoever this woman was, she was taking her role of bulldog seriously. He continued to stand on the front porch, staring blankly and racking his brain in order to try and figure out just who she was and how to get past her with muscling his way in. Then it dawned on him.

"You must be Marley." He gave her a lopsided grin.

"My, oh, my! You're very perceptive. Congratulations! You've just earned a gold star! You can add it to your list of attractive attributes."

"Welcome to Georgia," Sam muttered feeling the slap of her sarcasm.

"And so polite too! But you're a little late with that cheerful greeting. I've been here all week."

Sam felt his ire pitch and his jaw start to clench. "I guess you are the person that I should thank for Mercedes outstanding performance this evening."

Marley threw back her head and laughed before answering coolly, "You're giving me way too much credit. That whole ambush thing was Mercedes' idea. All I did was run some errands, give my girl some moral support as she cried her eyes out over you and drive the getaway car. After all, Mercedes is the one with the ingenious mind. She was the one who always planned our mischief as kids. But you! You are really are a piece of work, aren't you? Why don't you thank yourself for tonight's outstanding performance? If you weren't such a shallow, self involved, spoiled narcissist, my best friend would've never felt the need to do something so drastic."

Sam's teeth began to grind. All of this was getting him nowhere. It was obvious Marley had made up her mind about him and wasn't going to budge from her preconceived notion.

"What's the matter?" Marley asked. "Not used to the labeling and name-calling in reference to yourself?" Marley then raised her right palm and used it to bop her forehead. "Oh! I had forgot! You're only use to labeling and name-calling other people!" To add insult to injury, Marley batted her eyes sweetly.

Sam shook his head slowly and released a single chuckle. "You know, you've got it all wrong. You both do. I guess you never heard of the phrase. 'There are three sides to every story'?"

Marley took a moment to lean on the door frame and crossed her arms over her body. "I couldn't care less about your side. And Mercedes' side is usually the truth, because I have known her long enough to know that she's honest. That's good enough for me."

"She's hurt and confused. If you'll just let me in, I can explain."

"Explain? What's to explain? Did you or did you not tell all of your highfalutin friends that she was your ugly duckling? Have you or have you not been taking credit for all of her hard work? You know something, you don't even need to answer. The guilt is written all over your jacked-up face. Whatever you want to tell her, you can tell me from right where you are. I'll make sure to pass it along."

I'm not leaving until I see her," Sam stated with resolve.

Marley continued talking like she didn't hear a single word that Sam said. "On second thought, why should I! Why should I allow you to hurt her any further? For the past week, she has been upstairs crying over the shit that you did. Mercedes trusted you! This is how you pay her back? By making fun of her behind her back. She let you in! Do you have any idea how difficult that was for her to do? Do you have any idea how much you have destroyed her? What was she to you, huh? Another notch on your overcrowded bed post? Let me just go ahead and try something new. 'Maybe I should get a little taste of chocolate instead of vanilla. Let me go fuck a lonely widow. I'm surprised that you didn't place bets on how long it would take you to get her into the sack!' Question? How much did you win? Was it enough for you to take Mercedes out for a dinner just to say thank you?"

At that point, Sam had enough. "I don't care if you are her best friend or not, you do not talk about Mercedes like that!" Sam practically shouted.

Marley would not be detoured. " Why not? Isn't that what you did when you called her an ugly duckling? What is the fucking difference? It is still derogatory. It is still insulting. It is still demeaning. So there is no difference. Think about it. You can dish it, but you can't take it, huh?"

Before Sam had a chance to respond to her, Mercedes appeared. "Marley," Mercedes broke in quietly from behind her. "It's okay. You can let him in."

Marley turned briefly from her spot at the door to look at Mercedes, who was not standing at the bottom of the stairs. She was calm, but wide eyed. " Are you sure?"

Mercedes met Marley's eyes. "It's okay." Then she added, "Stay close though."

Marley turned back to Sam, gave him a disapproving snort. "It's your lucky day." she said before she had opened the door wider and stepped aside so Sam could enter into the foyer.

"Thank you," he said, overly polite.

"Trust me, not my idea," Marley retorted, closing the door behind him and resuming her post behind it.

Mercedes took one look at him and noticed the advanced discoloration of his eye. She wiggled her bruised fingers. No wonder his hand had hurt so much. Even she was surprised at the damage she had inflicted, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of displaying any remorse. Besides, she didn't feel any, at least towards him anyway.

"What are you doing here? What do you want?" She was as emotionless as a stone.

When Mercedes finally came into view, he didn't like what he saw. She looked drained. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. There were bags underneath them. Her hair was thrown up haphazardly up in a messy ponytail. She had on an old Stanford sweatshirt that looked like it could swallow her whole, with a pair of sweats. Her bare feet completed the look. "I really need to talk to you." He took one more fleeting look in Marley's attention. "Do you think we can so someplace private?"

"No." She stood at the staircase, leaning on the banister. "Marley isn't going anywhere. Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of her. Just say it and go."

Mercedes waited. It sure was easier to deal with having only one of those sad puppy eyes staring back at her. It simply disgusted her that even with the swollen, half-closed, bruising eye, he was still absolutely magnificent and had the ability to still make her week in the knees.

"I never meant to hurt you when I called you an ugly duckling." He got right to the point. For the first time, he was acutely conscious of how unkind the words sounded as he spoke them.

"If you're using it as a pickup line, you might want to reconsider tactics if you expect to get lucky with the next lady in your life." Her face still remained expressionless.

He continued miserable, throwing his hands up in surrender. "It was never my intention to pick you up. I don't even know why I had ever used the term."

She didn't even bother holding back on the hollow laugh. "I do. You said it yourself. Because it was never your intention to pick me up. You, Tina, Mike, and all of your friends … your beautiful friends would never let a fat loser like me get close enough to your circle to worry what goes on within it. You go on, from day to perfect day, blinded by spotlights, living your perfect lives, surrounding yourselves with other perfect people. You were only willing to let me in because I had busted my ass twenty-four-seven for the privilege. I don't know if I could make it in a world like yours, but I am sure as hell don't think I would want to spend the rest of my life trying either." Her genuine overwhelming sadness was beginning to show and Mercedes mad not attempt to conceal it.

He ineffectively tried to rationalize. "That's not true, Mercedes. You are a part of my world. Saying 'ugly duckling' didn't mean anything! I say it all the time."

"If this is going to be your argument, you need to try another course of action." Mercedes stated with an unaffected calm. "For a man who says that all the time, you have never once said that to me, but you say it to others? I can only conclude that for you, it rang true in my case. Go ahead Sam and tell me that I'm wrong."

"It's not true!" he said emphatically. Sam was desperate to be understood. All thoughts of Marley's witnessing the exchange all but forgotten. "I never thought of you in that way at all. When I said it to Quinn and all of the others before her, I would do it to provoke them. People would rave to them about their beauty all the time. Calling them an 'ugly duckling' was my way of deflating their egos. To knock them down a peg or two so they are human again. I work with people who are use to having things catered for them. Who are not use to being contradicted to or told no. In order for them to listen to what I have to offer, I have to do that. When I am in work mode, I have to have control. The only way that can happen is if they are listening to me. If they work on the equipment safely. I do not have time for attitudes. The 'ugly duckling' thing just served as a way to nip it in the bud.

"But you are not famous. Your face is not on the cover of magazines or on a Wheaties box. When it comes to my work, you are an enigma. You are an ordinary person. You were Leslie, someone who is trying to find her way back after life has kicked her around a bit. You had forced me to teach in a different style. When exactly should I have said it to you? While you were grieving the loss of your husband? While you were trying to overcome your food issues? When I realized …." He had stopped short of finishing the sentence, the one that would have ended with "I loved you."

Mercedes was unimpressed. She shook her head. "That was a nice speech. Using Leslie was a nice touch. But in the end, the only thing that mattered to me was the fact that I had trusted you, just like I trusted my husband. And what did Anthony do? He tore me away from everything and everyone I knew and locked me away in this tower so I could take care of him. It would have all been worth it if he had lived. Instead he died left me stranded. You know the first time I laid eyes on you, I hated you. I had judged you even before you had said a word. But the more we talked. You were perfection personified. You are every girls wet fantasy. Their dream come true. Looking at you reminded me of all of my inadequacies. Reminded me of how far I had let things get out of control. The more I got to know you, I started to feel like you might really be my knight in shining armor. The biggest joke of all was that you totally looked the part. And isn't that ironic? When all is said and done, I'm really no different from the rest of you …. Worshipping physical perfection. So I am no better than you."

Sam said nothing. The impact of her words was heavier than any weight that he had ever lifted.

Mercedes stood there, tears threatening but refusing to fall. For her, his silence was confirmation that everything she said was true. With that, she turned and went up the stairs.

"You know the way out," she said without looking back.

Sam waited until he heard the slam of her bedroom door before turning to leave. Marley was standing at the now reopened door with her arms still crossed, ready to close it behind him.

Their eyes met. Her look had softened and was no longer hostile. There may have even been some pity thrown in. Her mouth was slightly open, as though she wanted to say something, but had thought better of it. She believed him. Her gaze drifted to the staircase and then settled back on him. After her single nod, he turned away from her and took the stairs two at a time. She didn't follow.

He stood outside Mercedes' bedroom door.

"You're right, you know.," he said loudly through the wood that separated them. "About almost everything. Everything except the part where you said that you're like me. I'm an idiot, Mercedes, a first-class idiot."

When he got no response, he laid his ear against the door, his fingers gently tracing along the lines of the frame. His voice as low and pleading. "Don't you see Mercedes? That day on the plane? I thought I was going to teach you something. But in the end, it was you who taught me. Taught me not to judge a book by its cover. Taught me about real strength, endurance and beauty. All of the other things I used to consider my specialty. I'm not done learning Mercedes." He lightly banged his forehead on the door and whispered, hoarse: "If you leave me now, it'll be a real loss. A real loss."

As soon as he heard the door begin to open, he burst through, giving her no opportunity to change her mind. He swept her up into the middle of the room and kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her. With each kiss he pulled her closer, hugged her tighter. He stole breath after breath and squeezed her until she felt dizzy. When he finally set her at arm's length, she felt like she'd just ridden a roller coaster.

"Does this mean we get another chance?" Sam inhaled and then held his breath.

Mercedes looked at him with deep sadness. It was so deep that she was afraid that she might actually drown in it. This was supposed to be her crowning moment. A moment where she would emerge triumphant, having finally and completely freed herself from the hold that he had over her. Now, it just felt tainted somehow. Maybe it was because his delicious kiss was still fresh on her lips or she was still light-headed from his crushing embrace. Maybe Marley's earlier words were still ringing in her head, but suddenly she didn't was to say the cruel things she had planned. Mercedes slowly shook her head. "No. It means I didn't want to have any bad feelings between us when I said good-bye."

His look of relief was replaced with one of confusion and his grip tightened on her shoulders. "What do you mean 'good-bye'?"

It means that by tomorrow, I'm packing it in and going home."

Sam released her and looked around the room. Two suitcases were situated near the doorway, the confirmation of her statement. He returned his befuddled gaze to her. "You're going back to San Francisco?"

"Ohio," she stated simply.

"Ohio," he repeated, fully aghast. "That's a terrible idea. You were miserable there."

She gave him a sad little smile. "Your time for telling me what is and isn't a good idea for me has passed Sam. Besides, I am miserable here now. What you have done has tainted everything. Besides, I think I am ready to go back there and be part of a family again, even if it is my dysfunctional one."

"A family that you told me didn't want you for anything more than a nurse and a maid," he told her. "When they have an illness that can't be cured without active participation. You can't save them if they don't want saving."

She shrugged. "No family is perfect. They don't even know that I'm coming. And I'm not that same girl anymore, thanks in part to you. I'm stronger, focused. I'm going to stay with Marley for a while or at a hotel until I find a place to live. Once I'm settled, I'll make the call. They are starting to deteriorate, my father rapidly. I don't want to have any regrets about whether or not I was a lousy daughter, even though they were lousy parents."

"What about this place?" he asked her, stilly trying to reconcile the words that were coming out of her mouth with the meaning behind them.

"It goes on the market tomorrow. No matter how long it takes, I can wait it out." Mercedes said. "If it takes too long, then I will take a loss. At least I will be able to put it on my taxes."

"I don't want you to do this," he said.

"What you want no longer matters to me." she told him quietly. "And it's going to be okay for both of us. I'm sure of it. In a couple of months, you'll be ringing in the New Year with another beautiful blonde on your arm saying, 'Mercedes who?'. I guarantee it."

There was nothing more to say. Sam took a step back and turned, making his way to the door. Before exiting, he turned back to her with his single beautiful eye, the one that wasn't swelling. "I'm really sorry I hurt you Mercedes."

"I'm really sorry that I gave you a black eye Sam. But if it makes you feel any better, I was aiming for your nose," she said.

"Thanks for missing. That would've really sucked," he told her, wanting desperately to kiss her again one last time and knowing that it wouldn't make any difference. It would only prolong the agony. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"It really is for the best."

Sam looked at her one more time. She nodded in his general direction with a fake smile plastered on her face. By now, Sam knew every one of her smiles and the one that she had just given him didn't even get past her nose, much less her eyes. With one final quick glance at her face, he had turned around and he left the room. Mercedes listened to the sounds of his footsteps going down the stairs, a brief quiet exchange of voices and the sound of the front door closing. When she knew that it was safe, she threw herself on the bed and began to sob.

* * *

**I was so hoping that Sam would be able to get through to her. Words are a very powerful weapon. Make sure that you use them with care.**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Another chapter y'all and I am just have a ball. **

**Heads up, over 50% of this chapter is just me. The scene was never in the book. Guess I am getting more confident with this whole writing thing.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, there would not no way I would allow Mr. Shue to have 2 songs in the series finale. I am okay with Mr. Shue being able to sing his final song to the class, but that is about it. As for Sue, she shouldn't have had a song at all. Sue was the enemy for the Glee club on the first show and should have been an enemy of the Glee club during the last episode. Not have a song and dance. All of that ****unnecessary**** stuff has caused the stuff that we fans wanted to see, end up on the cutting room floor. I am talking about the scripted scene in which Sam and Mercedes had dinner.**

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA.**

* * *

Sam didn't even bother to acknowledge the intrigued look on the doorman's face when he entered his apartment building. What was he supposed to tell him? That he hadn't been mugged? That he was beaten up by his pissed off girlfriend dressed up as a swan? Even Sam didn't believe it and it happened to him. That yes, it hurt every bit as much as it appeared to?

Lowering his head, Sam opted to not to make direct eye contact and walked briskly to the elevator. He pushed the up button and offered a prayer of thanks when the doors immediately opened. He selected his floor and leaned against the wall, waiting for the doors to close, staring at the floor. It felt good not to have to look the world in the face, although he wasn't accustomed to feeling the weight of guilt heavy on his shoulders. Just before the elevator door closed, a woman entered, taking her place on the other side of the elevator. The doors closed and the elevator ascended.

He recognized the perfume even before his gaze drifted from her designer shoes up her long legs to finally settle on her face. It was a face that was smiling slightly.

Just when he thought his night couldn't get any worse. "Jesus Christ, news travels fast," he muttered.

"This sort of news does anyway," she replied cautiously. She was testing the waters of his mood before she made any further moves. "Bet a hickey doesn't seem so bad now."

Sam refused to answer and instead sighed, returning his stare to the floor. "What are you doing here Quinn? The modeling career is no longer working out, so you have turned into a three o'clock in the morning stalker?"

"I was waiting for you in the lobby, but you blew right by me. I came to see if you were all right. I also wanted to see for myself that it was actually true."

The elevator dinged and came to a stop at his floor, the doors opening. Sam got out with Quinn following behind him.

"You seriously have a lot of nerve showing up here," he said over his shoulder as he walked briskly down the hall.

"I wanted to try to explain."

"Explain what? That you went out of your way to destroy my relationship?" he asked, never even breaking his stride. Sam was hoping to lose her. Unfortunately, models really do know how to walk fast in heels.

"I wanted to explain what really happened. How badly Mercedes overreacted," she told him, quickening her pace in the effort to keep up with him.

"That sounds more like an accusation than explanation." Sam stopped at his front door and pulled out his keys from his jacket pocket. Quinn caught up with him and placed her hand over his before he could unlock the door.

"I know you're probably furious with me. I don't blame you. Please hear me out," Quinn said.

Even with his pounding headache, her beauty was remarkable. So graceful. So delicate. It was hard to believe she could be so completely malicious. Still, she seems sincere. With all the fight in him depleted and depression setting in, he exhaled loudly before relenting.

"I don't know why I am doing this. But, sure, come on in."

Sam unlocked the door and went inside, instinctively holding it open for her. He turned on several lights and made it straight over to the couch, taking a seat. Resting an elbow on his knee, he placed his good eye directly into his palm, applying pressure to his eye socket in the hopes of relieving his headache. Without looking up, he could feel the shifting of the couch as Quinn took a seat beside him.

"She really did a number on you," Quinn finally said.

"Is that what you came to talk to me about? If that is the case, you know where the door is." Sam replied into his forearm. His eyeball still firmly ensconced within his palm.

Quinn settled back on the couch. "You didn't deserve this Sam. You didn't deserve to be made a fool out of. When I got the phone call that this happened, I couldn't believe my own ears."

"Just out of curiosity, who told you? Sam asked, not really wanting to know.

"Jacob Ben Israel from the AJC," she told him as gently as she could. "It's going to be on the Peach Buzz."

"Great," Sam said blandly, lifting his head out of his hand and sitting back against the couch with another sigh. He looked at Quinn and resisted the urge to laugh. Her concern was evident. He thought he also recognized a touch of remorse.

"He said the pictures were not very good though and they probably won't use it. It's nothing more than a blurb. They're not even using names other than Mike's." She gave him a small contrite grin before continuing. "Once he told me what she was wearing, I knew right away what happened. I'm so sorry Sam. I swear, I only said five word to her. Of course, one of them was the word 'quack'. I had no idea that she was so unstable."

The urge to laugh won out as soon as he heard the word 'quack' and it started to replay of the night's events in his head. A chuckled of iron escaped his mouth. "You know what? I totally believe you."

Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. "You do? Thank you. I really did feel awful, even if I was the one who pushed her over the edge."

Sam said nothing. Disinclined to reveal anything more about Mercedes than Quinn already knew. If Quinn wanted to believe that Mercedes was irrational or insane, so be it. There was little to be gained by Quinn knowing her words had had the desired effect, or why. The fact was, he had nothing to say about anything. He wasn't interested in making Quinn feel any worse or any better. His only interest was the woman a town over who was hours away from leaving.

Quinn continued to watch him. All traces of the lothario she had previously known were gone. There was no hint of his easy going wit or his playful smile. He looked not only battered, but broken. She was uncomfortable and began to doubt her reasoning for showing up. At first, she was certain the time couldn't have been more perfect. He would be supremely pissed off at having that sort of attention drawn to him. But he would also probably want to move on as quickly as possible, even if he was admitting he missed the psychopath who had done this to him. The Sam sitting beside her was a man she didn't recognize. He looked disheartened and not ready to move on anywhere. He wasn't even going through the motions of trying to hide it. She finally said, "You really do look awful. Can I get you a couple Advil or some ice?"

Eager for a few minutes of solitude, he nodded. "Advil would be great. I think I have some in the medicine cabinet."

Quinn hurriedly stood up to retrieve the pain reliever and got him a glass of water to take it with. There was no doubt in his mind that what Quinn told him was the truth. There was also no doubt that Mercedes was clever enough to piece the whole scenario together with only one word to go by, especially after Tina confirmed Mercedes had reacted to hearing it. Nobody could have predicted the kind of scene Mercedes would create. It would be easy to lay the blame on Quinn, but deep down he knew the culpability was his and his alone. Marley was right. It was bound to happen. He had been so careless, thoughtless even. If it hadn't been Quinn, eventually it would have been someone else. Still, he couldn't stop from grinning, thinking how entertaining Mercedes' display must have been to watch for those with no emotional attachment to it.

Quinn came back and handed him the capsules and a glass of water. She sat down next to him. She waited for him to knock the Advil back with a hearty slug of water.

"Thanks," he said, adding, "Forgive my manners. Help yourself to anything you want."

Quinn waited before quietly asking, "Anything?"

Sam looked at her curiously for a moment before shaking his head. "Come on Quinn, you don't really want to be my rebound skank."

She slammed back against the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. Quinn was clearly put off. "Not when you put it like that. Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?"

He waited for her to look at him before pointing to his eye and saying sarcastically. "Yeah. I did get a memo." Sam took a deep breath before settling his gaze on her. He shook his head again. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure when my mouth became my worst enemy, but you know what I mean here. I'd fuck you tonight, because you are here and you're offering. I'm a putz like that, but in the end, it would be all about her."

Her. Quinn crossed her legs and tilted her head, continuing to study him. This time she noticed he was actually untidy. His collar was sticking up from his pin-striped suit jacket. His shirt was wrinkled and unbuttoned, his tie was loose. He looked miserable. If he would just give her a chance, she could fix all of it. They belonged together. They were a much better fit. Surely, he would see that now? She smiled again. "I can see you haven't completely lost your touch. You can still make the most repugnant things sound positively charming."

"What can I say? It's a gift," he replied but with no conviction.

She continued to stare at him, weighing the risks before confessing. "I really missed you Sam. I like to think that I have grown up a lot since we had last parted. You were good for me in so many ways. I am not saying we try to pick up where we left off. I'm still traveling anyway. We can go back to enjoying each other's company. Keep it casual. And I get your no-strings-attached thing, especially after what you have just been through. I've kissed a lot of frogs since I stopped seeing you. Maybe you kissed a couple too?"

If she was trying to convey through subtle wordplay any slight at Mercedes, he wasn't biting. Instead, Sam said wearily. 'I'm sort of laying off all the animal references for now."

Quinn giggled, encouraged by his remark and general non reaction to her disclosure. She sat up straight and licked her lips nervously. She learned her head in slightly toward his. When he made not move to pull away, she brought her head in closer and tentatively placed her mouth over his.

Her lips were soft and warm, just as he remembered them. Her breath was sweet. But there was just no magic. No awe or surprise. No wide-eyed wonder triggering his hunger. His own lips responded, but without enthusiasm. His hand remained limply at his sides. Quinn detected his hesitation. She opened her eyes to find his lifeless ones looking vacantly ahead. She slowly pulled her head away and leaned back on the couch. Demurely, she folded her hands neatly in her lap.

"I didn't mean to be pushy. We just always had chemistry. You're right. Maybe you just need some time."

He threw his hands up in the air and when they came down, they landed on his knees. "That's what I have been trying to tell you. It won't matter if it is tomorrow, or a month from now, because you and I are not going to happen. It is still going to be all about her. This girl isn't going to be out of my system anytime soon." He looked up from his hands to her. "You deserve to be worshipped. I don't worship you. I never did."

"Worshipped?" Quinn snickered. "Once again, you leave me feeling insultingly flattered. I would like to think I am slightly less demanding."

Sam smiled sadly at her. "There's no insult of any kind attached. You're a beautiful girl, who deserves a guy's full attention. A guy who is willing to do backflips to get you to notice him and dotes on you to keep it. I'm not that guy for you."

It was in that moment that Quinn knew she had made a mistake in coming. Her plan, while it had worked, had also backfired. Sam wanted for her all the thing he was doing for someone else. All her initial suspicions were confirmed. Sam's playboy days were over. He had fallen and he had fallen hard. If she wasn't seeing it for herself, she wouldn't have believed it. She had just chosen to ignore it. But she couldn't any longer. Quinn nodded at him. She reached for her purse and started to rise. "Why the hell do you have to be so nice? You even make a brush-off sound sweet. I would say lose my number, but I get the feeling that it is already gone."

Sam didn't respond to that, but he did stand up. Together they made their way to his door. "Thanks, Quinn, for coming by and clearing things up. For understanding that right now, I am a hot mess."

When they reached the door, Quinn turned around to face him for the final time. "She must have been crazy to risk losing you."

"I'll be sure to tell her, if she ever speaks to me again," Sam replied thinking that if he didn't get Quinn out of the door in the next thirty seconds, she might see him start to melt down.

He was unmistakably distraught. She started at him for a second and then started to laugh uncontrollably.

"You find something about that funny?" he asked her irritably.

"I do, " Quinn replied, catching her breath. "I find it hilarious that she's the most average, run-of-the-mill woman that I have ever seen in my life. She has no glamour and certainly no refinement. She had humiliated you publicly, and in a pretty major way. Now the only thing you can think of is how to get her back." Quinn started giggling again, right into Sam's red, frustrated face, before turning to walk out the door.

"But the best part?" she said with infuriating glee. "I make not like the woman. She took something that I wanted, so we will never be BFF's. But I have to hand it to her. She has done the impossible. She's actually making you sweat over it. For that, she is my hero." Quinn capped off that sentence with a slow clap that saw Sam practically shoving her out the door.

* * *

After firmly shutting the door behind Quinn, Sam took a moment and leaned up against it. There was so much that was floating around his head that his eye wasn't the only thing hurting. There is no doubt in Sam's mind that this day had taken a heavy toll on him. His personal life was in shambles and the woman that he was willing to sacrifice everything for, will be heading out of town for good in the next few hours. He would pour himself a drink, but even that cannot stop time from moving. In less that twenty-four hours from now, Mercedes would be in Ohio. The only thing that was going around in his mind is the fact that he had emotionally fucked up Mercedes so bad, the she has literally placed herself in the prison. That prison being her parent's house.

As he had pushed himself off the door, Sam heard his cell phone ringing from the top of his coffee table. He had looked at the time and it was almost four in the morning. "I wonder who would be calling me this late," Sam thought to himself. But curiosity, more than anything prompted him to pick up the phone. The caller ID on it had a number that he didn't recognized, but he had answered it anyway.

"Hello?" Sam said cautiously. Right now, he wasn't in the mood to generate any kind of emotion.

"Sam Evans?" the mysterious voice asked.

"Yes, Who's this?"

"It's Marley." she answered.

Sam's heartbeat had increased significantly once Marley verified that it was her that was calling. It felt like a surge of electricity was flowing through his body, creating a strange sense of euphoria. "Is Mercedes okay? Please tell me that she is okay."

"Mercedes is fine physically. So, I will leave it at that for right now" she replied. "I figured that you would still be up. I apologize for the late hour, but I wanted to make sure that Mercedes really had gone to bed before I made this call. I didn't want her to overhear me."

"This is a surprise." he stated, but after that he wasn't able to formulate any words, so silence took over until Marley broke it.

"I had figured that it would be, especially after our initial meeting." She replied as she had carefully looked around the room to see if Mercedes was nearby.

"I'm glad you had called, but how did you get my number?"

"From Mercedes' phone. You just kept calling every twenty minutes, so your number wasn't that hard to find. Lord knows I love that girl to death, but she hadn't changed the lock code on her phone since high school. She may switch out phones, but she never changes the code." Marley laughed at the memory.

"Are you sure that Mercedes is okay?" Sam said quietly.

Marley heard the pain in his voice, so she had chosen her words carefully. "Physically, Cede is fine. It is her mental wellbeing that I am concerned about and the reason for her current state is because of her feelings for you. You hurt her, plain and simple. I'm convinced that you didn't mean to. I'm also convinced that you had believed that people really aren't that shady that they would purposely would hurt someone out of spite. But she found out and she got hurt. The phrase "ugly duckling' hit her to her very core. Her self-esteem was never really that strong to begin with and high school made it worse. She always felt that she had never measured up in the looks department. In high school, it is more about vanity and popularity than anything else at all. I was the popular one. Top of the social pyramid. But the other kids labeled Cedes as a DUFF."

"DUFF?" Sam wanted to know.

"That is a semi modern day term that the teenagers use these days. It means 'Designated Ugly Fat Friend'. You know high school. People were too busy looking at the outside of a person rather than the inside. So, you can see why she is mad at you. You may have thought that she had blown your comment totally out of portion, but there is a back story to her extreme anger and you had tapped right into it. Your 'ugly duckling' sent that girl right back to high school and made her a DUFF all over again. Sometimes words can be the worst weapon you have. It is a heavy responsibility, so you have to be careful with what you do with them.

Marley continued on. "High school may be a rite of passage, but it is also a jungle. A jungle that is a lot more dangerous and psychological damaging than 'The Lion King'. But you wouldn't know anything about that. Chances are, your good looks allowed you to sail through high school relatively unscathed. Just like me. But I had a front row seat to everything that Mercedes went through. Of course, no one would say DUFF to her face. They would say it behind her back or on anonymous submissions on our school internet chat board.

"The first chance that Mercedes had to flee, she did. She went clear across the country. Got far away from Lima as she possibly could courtesy of a scholarship from Stanford. She started a whole new life in an area where no one knew her as my "DUFF" friend. Where she was just Mercedes. She made new friends, met and married Anthony. She built a life for herself and she was very happy, until she wasn't anymore."

Sam listened to what Marley had to say and he took it all in. Who would have thought that some cruel words had the capability to turn his world upside down? Now that he knows the full reason for her upset, he felt like he was six inches tall. He didn't think that he could feel worse, but Marley had proved him wrong. Up until now, he had gone out of his way not to let people into his life. Not to allow himself to get emotionally involved. Emotions cause chaos and misunderstandings. There were only a handful of people that he had let into his life and they were his immediate family and Mike. Everyone else was kept at arm's length until Mercedes had blasted her way through it. Now his heart aches with the thought that he may never get the chance to make this up to her.

The only thing that Sam could do now was to lower his head in shame. "You've given me a lot to think about. I didn't know about any of this. She had never told me about any of this. I didn't want to pry too much into her past. I saw how sad it made her, so I had never pressed it. Maybe I should have." he had whispered the last part to himself instead of the phone. "So that whole DUFF business really bothered her?"

"Cede knew about it." Marley stated with a slight bit of anger mixed in with sadness in her tone. "How could she not? She wasn't stupid. Mercedes may be a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. She told me that it didn't bother her, but her eyes told me something different." Marley paused for a moment before she continued on with her thought. "Here's free a piece of unsolicited advice. One thing that you need to know about Mercedes, her eyes always tell you the truth. So, if you want to know how she feels about you, just look into her eyes. They will tell you everything that you need to know."

"Mercedes' eyes don't lie," agreed Sam. "But in changing the subject, you're right. I wasn't asleep. I can't sleep. Every time I close my eye, all I see is the hurt look on her face. I have been racking my brain, trying to figure out what I am going to do and I am drawing a blank. Mercedes is the first real romantic relationship that I ever had and I end up fucking that up. No wonder why I don't do relationships." he sat down on the couch.

"Do you love Mercedes," Marley asked him point blank.

"I am afraid that I can't answer your question right now," Sam replied. " I think she should be the first to know before I tell anyone else."

"That's fair." Marley stated thoughtfully.

Marley was silent after that. She allowed their conversation to absorb before she spoke. " I am here to help. That is why I am calling you tonight."

"Really? I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me. Based upon your tone, I was pretty convinced that you wanted to put an apple in my mouth, tie me to a stake and roast me over an open fire."

"First, I'm sorry for the rough treatment that I had gave you earlier, but I will not apologize for what I did. I had to make sure that you weren't playing any games with her. I've been worried about her for quite a while." Marley explained to Sam. "Unfortunately, there is not much I could do from up here. My best friend is alone. Living in a strange city where she doesn't know anyone and has no friends. Residing in the same house where her husband died in. Then you came along. I was happy that she was starting getting out and making friends and showing the world the Mercedes that I have always known. The smart, funny, kindhearted one. Once she had told me that your relationship had gotten physical, I had to make sure that you weren't just using her as another notch on your bedpost. I will admit, that I wasn't all that receptive when she first told me about you two. In fact, she didn't speak to me for weeks because of it. Let's face it. I've taken a look at your past dating history and the idea wasn't out of the realm of possibility. But as time went on, I noticed her change. I noticed that she had a genuine smile on her face. She laughed more. I started to change my tune about you."

"I can understand you being hesitant. Mercedes has been through a lot in recent years and my playboy reputation didn't make any better. You're forgiven, but if you don't mind by my asking, what made you change your mind?"

"You did," Marley said simply. "You stood up to me. You took what I had to dish out and when I went to the jugular, you bit back and defended her. You could have walked away, but you didn't. You were adamant about not leaving until you had spoken to her face to face.

"Let me tell you something. Cede is stubborn. Once she has made up her mind to do something, she will do it. There is no changing her mind until what she had wanted to do was done. Only after it has been done, can you get her to see reason. Mercedes was adamant about the whole swan thing. I let her play it out. Once it was over, I did my best to try and convince her to speak to you. Tried to get her to see your point of view and to just stop running."

Sam got up and paced around in his apartment. For the first time all night, he had felt energized. "So how can you help? Is there anyway to stop her from getting onto that plane?"

"By giving you an education on one Mercedes Benz Jones. Now get a pen and take all of this down. You have a very narrow window of opportunity to save your relationship. If you want her back, you have to do what I say. I'm only going tell you once."

Sam was no fool. He quickly grabbed a pen and paper and proceeded to do exactly what Marley told him to do.

* * *

**Well, it looks like I am going** **to have to give Marley some wings and have her carrying a golden bow and arrow with her if I am going to turn her into Cupid. **

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Thank you for the love!**

**Concerning the last chapter, as a reader of "Big Girl Panties", I thought the character's reaction to the ugly duckling was extreme. The author really didn't give a reason behind their strong reaction. Due to that, for me, it made it one of the weaker moments in the book. At first, I wasn't going to use the swan costume thing, but I realized that every story has to have angst. So if I was going to have Mercedes in a swan costume, I had to give a reason for her over the top reaction. I thought about the movie "Duff" and I thought it would be perfect. So I chose Marley to convey Mercedes' overblown reason over to Sam. **

**I hope that made sense. **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, I would have made Chris Colfer write all of the episodes. RIB quit caring about the show years earlier. What Glee needed was who a writer who cared about the characters, to flesh them out and make them stronger instead of cartoonish. The one episode that Chris wrote, brought the characters back to what they used to be, but at the same time it brought out the humor. It also brought something else that was missing for quite some time, it brought back its heart. **

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am my own BETA.**

* * *

Mercedes had woken up the next morning to the sound of her cell phone's alarm. It was just before nine. She felt lethargic and worn out. Just when she thought that she didn't have any more tears left, they kept flowing throughout the night. Once again, she was mourning the loss of a man who had stepped in and changed her world. Only this time, she was left in a world where she was now confident that she could conquer without him. That she could forge ahead without self pity and doubt. At least, she had hoped that she could do that. Granted, in her mind, Lima, Ohio, is where happiness goes to die, but she was determined to go.

"Oh, hell to the no!" she said out loud as she sat up, rubbing the salty crust her tears had formed from her eyes. "This is not the way you are going to start with the first day of the rest of your life."

She got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, disrobing and lecturing herself on the way. After a quick shower, she dressed and took her suitcases down to the front door to await the car service that would be picking her and Marley up at ten to take them to the airport. Marley's suitcase was already there. Mercedes could hear the sound of the television coming from the family room. She found Marley fully dressed, sitting cross-legged on the couch, watching CNN.

Marley looked up and said excitedly, pointing to the television, "Girl! You made the news!"

Mercedes froze. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, not you exactly," Marley said while still bouncing on the couch in amusement. "They just had a story about a skirmish at Mike Chang's house last night. I'm guessing you're the 'unidentified assailant' who broke into their charity party and started a melee resulting in one minor injury. You'll be happy to know that you are still on the loose."

The grip of fear was immediate. Mercedes had been so wrapped up in plotting her scheme, that she had forgotten there could be that kind of fallout. Sure, she thought maybe she would be arrested. Sure, she knew in the back of her mind that it was a charity event. She had been so single focused on her objective that she had blocked everything else out. The pieces are only now coming together because of the CNN report. Now she felt worse than awful. She didn't think of the fallout. Now there was a strong possibility that because of her drama, a worthwhile charity will not get as much funds.

Mike and Tina have been nothing but kind to her. How does she repay their kindness? By being a drama queen at their party and giving them both some bad publicity. She slowly shook her head.

"That is so not funny Marley," Mercedes said, bringing her finger to her mouth. "I hope they at least mention the charity. The AFLAC Children's Healthcare of Atlanta could really use the funds."

"Sorry, they didn't. What a bunch of bullshit! Don't they get their facts straight? It wasn't a melee. Plus, you didn't break in. You were invited. There is a difference after all. Besides your invitation was probably written in gold."

Mercedes began to chewing on her fingernail. Her mind began to race. It was too early in the morning for this. "They probably said that to save my ass." she muttered guiltily to herself.

"Did you say something?" Marley piped up.

"I said that they probably did that cover story to save my ass. That's why there are no reporters at my door."

Marley watched Mercedes from her spot on the couch and asked, "Mercedes? Are you having second thoughts? "

"No," Mercedes replied quickly before moving on to another fingernail. "In fact, suddenly I am thinking that I can't get out of this town fast enough."

"I still can't believe that you want to move back to Lima. A town that you had left when you were 18 and you swore that you wouldn't move back there. Even now, you only go there when I give birth. For Halley's birth, you snuck into Lima. You snuck out of Lima. You don't even say hi to your parents."

"Maybe I want to live near my very best friend and to watch my God children grow up."

"Nah! Anthony left you a lot of money. More money than you can spend in a lifetime. With money, you have choices. You can cruise around the world. Live in a grass hut in Fiji for years. If you are not that adventurous, you can just chill at your cabin in Tahoe."

"You're right. Money does come with options and I choose to move back to Lima."

"Oh, I give up!" Marley huffed. "Too bad that I didn't come down here to see you sooner." she rattled on. "It would have been nice to tour the CNN Center. Robin Meade talks about the CNN tours so much, it sounds like fun."

But Mercedes wasn't listening to her friend. Instead her thoughts wandered to the last twenty-four hours. Now that the haze had vanished, she was left with the aftermath. Last night she didn't care what happened, but with a new day it brought logic, regret, and a sense of self-preservation. She hadn't only done this to Sam, she had essentially stabbed Mike and Tina in the back as well. She felt the panic start to mount. "But what if the only reason they didn't tell the police that it was me was because of Sam? What if by now they know I had kicked Sam to the curb? They don't need to protect me out of loyalty to him anymore. What if now they decided they want to get justice?" With those words, Mercedes started to pace the room and wring her hands.

Marley had pushed herself off the couch, stood up, and walked over to Mercedes. She grabbed Mercedes' forearm to halt her as she passed and spoke calmly. "Whoa! Mercedes, relax. By Atlanta's standards, it wasn't all that late when he left here last night. Trust me, no one is coming to get you."

Mercedes stopped pacing and looked at Marley with wide frightened eyes.

"Come on Mercedes. Snap out of it. We have fifteen minutes before our shuttle arrives. You need to hold it together for just a little while longer," Marley said gently in an effort to get Mercedes to refocus. "Do you have our tickets?"

"They're in my purse," Mercedes replied, worrying her lower lip. She went over to a small table next to the door where her purse was sitting and pulled them out, showing them to Marley.

"Keys to the house and the car?" Marley asked.

"With the Realtor," Mercedes replied. The real estate agent had frowned at the suggestion that her BMW could be part of the deal for the house, but Mercedes had asked anyway. If she had to, she would make arrangements later to ship the car once Mercedes was situation. "What would I do without you? You're a lifesaver. Along with being so bright eyed and bushy tailed at the crack of dawn."

"Are you kidding?" Marley laughed. "This is just me making up for all of the math help you had given me in high school. Besides, I'm always up at five in the morning. I have three kids and it is the only time I get any peace and quiet. For me, getting up at seven is seriously sleeping in."

"Well, I have to go and make a really important phone call. Once I am done, we can go. Okay?" Mercedes asked.

After the call was done, together they took the time to quickly look around, making sure that Mercedes hadn't forgotten anything. The refrigerator was empty. The cupboards were bare. The lights were all on timers to give the appearance that someone still lived there. All papers were gone, shredded and disposed of, with the exception of the important ones that were tucked away within one of her suitcases. She had done every single thing she could think of to avoid making any return to Georgia that would require more than the briefest of stays.

It had worked. Mercedes was once again composed. Marley was probably right. If there were going to be any repercussions, they would have happened already. Still, she wouldn't be able to completely relax until she was in the sky and she never in a million years would have thought she would feel safer at thirty thousand feet than she did on the ground. She really had to come such a long way. And she had already begun to view the house as nothing more than a shell. Anthony's ghost had long since departed. Wherever he was, he was probably laughing his ass off, proud that she had stood up for herself, and in such a grand fashion. She shook her head and swallowed any lingering sadness. She didn't have to worry about being that pliant, accommodating girl anymore. She was steady, focused, and in control. Anthony had made sure that she could have any sort of life she wanted. Sam had seen to it that she was strong enough to know how to make the most of it. Thanks to the two men that were in her life, she was a better, stronger person. If she could just get to the airport and on the plane without a felony assault charge, she would be home free. She heard the faint sound of a car horn outside and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Goodbye, Anthony," Mercedes quietly whispered to herself as she took one final look at her house.

A kindly gray-haired gentleman in his early sixties was waiting outside when Mercedes opened the front door, and he wished them a good morning, introducing himself as Gus. He took their bags to place them in the car's already opened trunk. Satisfied that both the suitcases and the passengers were secure within the car, he took his position behind the steering wheel and shifted the nondescript black Crown Victoria into gear. The care began to stealthily make its way down her driveway.

"Would you like me to stop somewhere so we can pick up some coffee?" he asked politely, glancing at her reflection in his rearview mirror.

"No thanks," Mercedes told him. "I am a slightly nervous flyer to begin with. No point in adding octane to that mix."

"Understood," the chauffeur replied, chuckling. "Then let's get you two to the airport."

Marley and Gus engaged in small talk, leaving Mercedes to her own thoughts. She watched from her window in the backseat as she passed by the streets that used to be her neighborhood. It was like she was seeing much of it for the first time. Sort of a shame, she mused. So much had happened in the relatively short time she was here that she never got a chance to really explore all the state had to offer. She had never even gotten to Savannah or the beaches of Tybee Island. By the time they hit I-285, she felt a lump start to form in her throat. In the distances, with the sun trying to burst through the clouds on this cloudy day, she could see from her window an overly bright glow reaching out. As the scenery passed her by, she took a moment to reflect on her time in Georgia, especially the past few months. For she had just realized that she no longer had painful memories of a town that she had called home for three years. That she had some good times with tinge of sadness. It may have taken longer than she had hoped, but she really did make some friends here. Friends that she had made at Bodyesse as well as the Braves organization. Tina may be mad at her now, but she hoped to repair their friendship once things settled down in her life. She would miss them all.

But Sam? How did she feel about him? She'd never expected him to search her out so soon. And he hadn't even been angry, just contrite. Beyond contrite. He was downright wretched. He had ruined the final part of her plan. He had ruined her getaway with his sad, soulful green eye and his apologetic declaration. It left a rotten taste in her mouth.

Marley broke into Mercedes' thoughts. "Are you feeling any better? I brought your Xanax."

Mercedes turned to her with an absent smile. "I'm fine. You know that I am not going to take them."

It looks like it is going to be a nice day for flying, if that makes you feel any better," Gus had commented.

"It does Gus," Mercedes replied. "I was hoping it would be. Every little bit helps. Let's hope our Dayton landing is as cooperative."

"Well, I can't speak for Ohio, but the weather in Maine is probably similar," Gus said, taking a quick look up into the sky through the windshield.

"I've never been to Maine before, but I had heard that it was beautiful. My late husband and myself use to take weekend trips up to Portland, Oregon when we were living in San Francisco. I can imagine Maine's scenery to be something like that." Mercedes told him. "We're going to Ohio today."

"Ohio, huh?" he remarked. "Been there a few times fishing. Some beautiful country out there."

"There sure is," Marley replied, full of pride, then laughed. "Although I can only imagine what sort of 'beauty' awaits me in my house after being away all week."

"How long are you staying?" he politely inquired, making eye contact with Mercedes in the mirror again. "Did you schedule a pickup? I can to that for you too if you need me to."

"My ticket is one-way," Mercedes said. "And Marley already lives there."

""Had enough of the Atlanta traffic?"

"Something like that. I have family there." Mercedes closed her eyes tight for a moment, to keep out of her mind the implications that came with the world "family,"

The conversation was minimal after that, with Gus returning his attention to the congested traffic on I-285. Mercedes and Marley were quiet also. Each of them was lost in her respective thoughts. Before they knew it, he had turned off Camp Creek Parkway and soon he had pulled up to the front of the South Terminal. Gus got out of the car and proceeded to the back so he could open up the trunk, and handed over their bags to a porter, who accompanied Mercedes and Marley to check in counter. Mercedes confidently handed their coach boarding passes and both her and Marley's driver's licenses to the ticket agent. There would be no disputes this time about how many asses she had and how many seats she would need. Besides, it is only a two-hour flight, so sitting in coach won't be so bad. But Mercedes' confidence began to falter as the agent took several long, drawn out moments looking from the ticket to the identification to her computer screen to Mercedes.

"Is there something wrong?" Holly asked nervously.

"No, Mrs. Jones, not at all," the agent said amiably while typing out several keystrokes on her computer. "These tickets have been upgraded."

"Upgraded?" Marley piped up. "Did I just make it to the big time?"

"Both of them?" Mercedes asked, her shock evident. "I didn't think I had enough flyer miles for that."

The Delta ticket agent handed Mercedes back the licenses and the newly printed boarding passes with a smile. "I'm sorry, I don't know anything about that. They may have upgraded you automatically. If you care to wait a minute, I will be more than happy to take a look and confirm what happened?

"No, that's fine. You don't need to go through all of that trouble. But I appreciate the offer." Mercedes stated quickly. She couldn't help but smile at Marley's veiled excitement and the line of people gathering behind them. Even if they ended up charging her, it was the least she could do to repay Marley for all she had done to see her through not only Anthony's death, but through this past week as well. In fact, she should have just trashed her usual rule of flights longer than three hours get the first-class treatment and treated Marley to the larger seats and snack service in the first place. Still, she was mildly disappointed. She was actually looking forward to sliding smoothly into the smaller seat. It would have been another victory in her life's story. She turned around and faced Marley. "Come on. It is security time."

"Goody! Goody! My favorite part of the traveling process!" Marley rolled her eyes sarcastically as Mercedes swatted her arm.

Mercedes let Marley have the window seat, while she took the seat beside her and got settled. The flight wasn't crowed and business class was nearly empty. Maybe she would move around later. For now, it was comforting to have her best friend right beside her. She buckled herself in and began he mental preparation for takeoff. The new Mercedes was not going to be afraid to fly and she wasn't going to assuage that fear by gorging herself on whatever junk food was offered her. The new Mercedes was going to placidly nap and enjoy the royal treatment. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, considering whether or not she should ask for a blanket.

"Whew! That was close! I thought for a minute there I wasn't going to make it."

Mercedes didn't even need to open up her eyes. She knew that voice. She knew that cologne. There is only one person who could turn her into a puddle. That one person was standing there in all of his glory.

Sam Evans.

Just damn!

* * *

**Oh my God! Sam showed up on their flight! They met on a plane, I guess it is only fair that they try to mend their relationship on a plane. More in the next chapter.**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: My apologies for the late posting of this chapter today. I currently having a major allergy attack that has caused my eyes to turn into faucets and I can't see ten inches in front of my face. So you can imagine staring at a computer screen has been a total nightmare. To make matters worse, the drugs are not working! The drops are not working! Nothing is working! Nothing like taking a 24 hour pill, only to have it quit working after hour two. **

**Thank you all again for your support of me concerning this story.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, Amber Riley should have sang all the songs on the Whitney Houston tribute, with one of those being solo. Lord knows, Ryan Murphy would have made sure that Lea Michele would have a solo if they did a Barbara Streisand tribute.**

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. That, and I am not using a BETA.**

* * *

_The new Mercedes was not going to be afraid to fly and she wasn't going to assuage that fear by gorging herself on whatever junk food was offered her. The new Mercedes was going to placidly nap and enjoy the royal treatment. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, considering whether or not she should ask for a blanket._

_"Whew! That was close! I thought for a minute there I wasn't going to make it."_

_Mercedes didn't even need to open up her eyes. She knew that voice. She knew that cologne. There is only one person who could turn her into a puddle. That one person was standing there in all of his glory._

_Sam Evans._

Her pulse raced with the immediate recognition of the voice. But when she had finally got around to opening them, she was speechless. Sam Evans had slid in the aisle seat across from her. He was scruffy from not having taken the time to shave. This was the closest to disheveled that she has ever seen him. He was smiling at her. His beautiful, captivating smile which offset the horror that was his eye. Everything around the socket was painted with various shades of purple and white of his eye was tinged red. What she could see of the white anyway. His eye was approaching the state of what looked like a permanent wink.

"Good morning, gorgeous," he said to Mercedes before leaning past her and adding, "Hi, Marley."

"Morning, Sam," Marley said, way too friendly for Mercedes taste.

"What are you doing here?" she sputtered incredulously when she has finally found her voice.

"What does it look like I am doing here?" He smiled while buckling himself in. "I'm flying to Dayton. Then I am renting a car and heading to Lima."

"B-but why?" She continued to stammer. "How?"

He released an energized rush of air. "You didn't really think I was just going to let you go without a fight, did you? At first, I was just going to show up at your house early this morning with flowers and a boom box playing some goofy love song, John Cusack style. But then I had a little chat with your friend here. She gave me the idea of a different approach and I was kind enough to accept her invitation. So, here I am. How is my little Sugar Ray this morning?"

Mercedes turned her head away from Sam long enough to level a cold, disbelieving glare at Marley.

"Traitor," she hissed.

Marley grinned unapologetically and gave a small shrug. Mercedes shook her head, her lips was clamped together so tight, it was a wonder that she could breathe. She turned her attention back to Sam as he continued talking, completely ignoring his condescending question. "Anyway, she told me everything I needed to know in regard to your flight. Then I called and switched your tickets and booked the seat next to you. We figured it was a much better idea. Now you are a captive audience. And I have witnesses in case you decide to go all ninja on me again, not that it would really stop you. The way I see it, I have about two hours to win you over. I hope it's enough. I know just how tough you are." His smile grew so wide the bloodshot eye completely disappeared within the swollen purple flesh surrounding it.

"I'm not doing this. I'm switching my seat," Mercedes replied hotly. With that, she had unbuckled her seat, lifted up the aisle armrest and rose. "You and Benedict Arnold over there can compare some more notes.

Mercedes went to the other side of the plane, walked several rows back and sat in an empty window seat. She buckled her seatbelt and the flight attendants were closing the overhead bins and getting prepared for the safety talk. After about a minute, Marley arrived and took the seat beside her. Mercedes crossed her arms and continued to stare out the window, flat out refusing to even look at her. Marley was pretty sure that she could see the steam coming out of Mercedes' ears.

They sat there in silence for the next ten minutes as the flight attendants pointed out the exits to the aircraft and did a demonstration on how to put on the air mask. The plane began to taxi to its runway and Mercedes began to seethed. The audacity! The unmitigated gall of him to just merrily announce his arrival and reveal his plot and think that she would be anything but incensed. Then on top of that, to drag her best friend into this! How dare he! She was too irritated to be afraid. As the plane took off, all she could think about was how good it would feel to push both Sam and Marley out of it. Adding anvils instead of parachutes would be a nice touch.

It seems like only a minute later that a flight attendant appeared and asked them if they would like some coffee or anything else to drink. Mercedes could feel her skin start to crawl when she overheard the distinct giggle and syrupy quality of the attendant's voice once she got to Sam. Typical. She added it to the list of crap that she wouldn't miss when she was finally free of him. She turned around, faced Marley. If Mercedes' eyes were daggers, Marley would be bleeding in a first-class leather seat.

"I can't believe you did this." Mercedes said fiercely. "I can't believe that you did this to me. I don't think I can ever forgive you for this ultimate betrayal. I hope you are proud of yourself. And that you realize that all you did was fall under his spell, like every single female has since he came out of his mother's womb! You are just like all the rest of the women who get in his crosshairs. I really thought that you were made of stronger stuff. Imagine my disappointment that you are just like every other female that crosses his path."

Marley waited patiently while Mercedes ranted and then asked, "Are you done?"

"No, I am not done. Thanks for letting me spend the last two hours freaking out about how I would look in an orange jumpsuit with numbers on my back!" Mercedes snapped. Once again, she felt utterly alone. Only yesterday, Marley had detested Sam on her behalf. Now she is grinning like the cat that swallowed the damn canary as Sam's co-conspirator. What in the hell happened in the past twenty-four hours? Has the world turned on its axis? It was overwhelming and simply too much to bear. It was impossible to comprehend this betrayal. She shook her head as she ran her hand through her hair. "There. Now I am. I just need to know why. Why would you do this? Why would you betray me like this?"

"Because I was there," Marley said by way of explanation. "I heard you. And I heard him."

The way she said it made Mercedes pause. She felt her shoulders loosen from up around her earlobes as the tension began to drain out of her. "All he did was play you Marley. He had played you like he had played me, like a freaking violin!" Mercedes said dispassionately, resuming her gaze out of the window. "It is his specialty. He is the master of his craft. The man should teach a fucking class. "

"I don't think so. And if you can stop being pissed off for a second, I'll tell you why," Marley said. When Mercedes remained staring out the window, she continued quietly. "I've heard that sort of voice before."

What was Marley getting at? Her quiet confidence was unexpected. Mercedes turned back from the window.

"I was so jealous of you the day that you left for college," Marley said. "Jealous that you were actually able to do what you always said you were going to do. You were going to escape our small, insignificant town. It didn't matter that I knew all of the reasons why you were so desperate to get out. Every time I got an email from you, it only got worse. There you were, across the country, beginning a new life at Stanford, a life that I could only dream about. I was determined to save up my money and try to apply to college next year. Maybe not Stanford, because you were always way smarter than me, but someplace where I could live in a dorm room, really be on my own and have that college experience."

"I never knew that you had felt that way," Mercedes murmured as she felt her defenses starting to slip away. "Just so you know, I may have embellished that first year. Sure, I had fun, but I didn't have that much fun."

Marley chuckled a little. "Trust me, you weren't nearly as miserable as I was when I found out that I was pregnant with Danny. I saw any hope of college or even a good paying job passing me by with that stupid EPT test. And then I realized I didn't have to let it stop me. It was the twenty-first century. I could solve the problem with one trip to a clinic. I could have an abortion without anyone even knowing about it.

Mercedes stifle a gasp. She remembered holding Danny right after he was born that first summer, she was home from college. He was so small, pink, and precious. It had been nearly impossible to wipe the beaming smiles off Marley and Ryder's faces. It was hard to believe that Marley would have considered termination as an option.

"But I knew I could never keep what I was going to do from Ryder. He was already suspicious. He had seen me get sick a couple times and I was acting strangely in general. I figured he would be happy anyway since I was letting him off the hook and everything."

Mercedes nodded and said nothing at all. Marley's voice became softer.

"But he wasn't happy. In fact, he started to cry. He begged me not to go through with it. He told me that he had loved me since the second grade. That he had a prayer answered the first time I said that I had loved him. He told me that he wanted to marry me and have a family, if I would just give him a chance. He stated that he would spend the rest of his life making sure that I didn't regret it. And he has lived up to that promised. Ryder has given me a pretty good life … so far." Marley smirked slightly before continuing. "I don't have any regrets. I don't look back and do the 'what if's'."

Mercedes found herself smiling as well. The Lynn's relationship was as strong as it ever had been. Marley had spoken with Ryder and the kids every day while at Mercedes'. Those conversations were always full of affection. It was the same sort of rapport that they had shared back in high school. "How come you had never told me about this? You are my best friend. We tell each other everything. I can't believe that you went through all of this."

"It is simple. I didn't want you to be disappointed in me. You were living the life that you had earned. You were free of your past. I didn't want to drag you back into it with my drama. Besides, everything worked out well in the end. I couldn't have asked for a better life."

Marley continued; her eyes were bright. "The point of this story is that until the day that I die, I will never forget the look on Ryder's face or the raw emotion in his voice that night. Some people go a whole lifetime and never see someone act that way over them. My heart still skips a beat when I think about it"

Mercedes stared at Marley and began biting into her lower lip. The story was certainly leading up to something. Something that Mercedes didn't want to face.

"Mercedes," Marley said quietly. "My heart skipped a beat last night. The only difference this time, my heart skipped for you."

Mercedes continued to stare, only now with her mouth slightly agape and fresh tears starting to burn her eyelids. It is true what they say. It is impossible to run out of tears because Mercedes thought that she didn't have any more left after being a bawling mess for over a week.

Mercedes began to protest. "I don't think you know what the hell you are talking about."

"I know what I saw. What I saw last night was a man who would do anything to keep you from leaving him. What I saw last night was a man who had finally realized what he had. He doesn't want you to slip away. He doesn't want you to go Cede."

Mercedes closed her eyes and leaned her head back. It felt like the world was spinning around her and she didn't know how to make it stop.

"You know what else I think?" Marley asked and then bluntly said, "I think the truth is you would rather have a root canal without the benefit of anesthesia than go back to Lima. You have just spent so much of your life settling and trying to make the most of rotten situations that you honestly don't believe you deserve anything better. Personally, I think it's time to stop all of your bullshit, put on your big girl panties, go over there and talk to that man."

Mercedes' head snapped back up, insulted. "I beg your pardon?"

"Girl, you heard me! Wipe that offended look off your face. If anything at all, this past week proved to me that you are no longer a delicate flower that you used to be. Listen, no one was more surprised than me when I got off the plane and first saw you. Standing before me was a completely different person, which isn't saying all that much considering the last time I saw you was at Anthony's funeral. But the fire was back in your eyes and I don't think it was only because you were plotting the big get-even. It goes so much deeper than that. No one wanted to hate Sam or have your plan work more than I did. Even Ryder was jazzed up about it, thinking about you sticking it to the man. But now I am not so sure this guy is the villain I thought he would be or that you would be better off without him. When I called him last night, I got more of an insight."

"How did you get Sam's number," Mercedes wants to know.

"I got it off your phone," Marley said nonchalantly.

Mercedes narrowed her eyes at her response, but let her continue.

"Now where was I," Marley muttered to herself before continuing. "Oh! He's genuine and deeply cares for you. It is so goddamn obvious. Guys don't talk like that unless they mean it. Not to mention that he is gorgeous as sin. Something tells me that your reaction was disproportionate to what he did to you. Not that I blame you. Even he thinks that he could have handled the whole situation better."

Marley reached over and grabbed Mercedes' hand before she spoke this last part. "Cedes, you are not the only one who is scared. Sam's scared too. I would be the worst friend ever if I let you walk away from this. If I let you walk away from what could possibly be a forever relationship."

Mercedes spoke in barely a whisper. "How do you know that Sam is scared?"

"Because I was on the phone with him for over an hour last night, or I should say this morning. We had a serious talk. I would have stayed on the phone longer, but my cell phone battery was almost dead and he had to make arrangements to surprise you on this flight."

"But ….," Mercedes started to say.

Marley interrupted her. "I get that you're scared. I know firsthand what Anthony's death did to you. You need to stop running. Running is exhausting. Aren't you tired of running? You need to stop looking back. You need to grab life by the horns and start living again. You are my best friend. The only thing that I want for you is to be happy. I believe that Sam is the one to make you happy. Not to mention, that your children will be absolutely gorgeous."

"Kids! Really Marley!" Mercedes gasped.

"Yes, kids! Cute, swirly kids!" Marley explained. "Cede, have you ever seen him? Take a really good look at the guy. Sam Evans is one fine ass specimen of a man. That man is not only a snack, but he is the whole damn buffet. I wouldn't know which end to start! Even with that black eye, I am pretty positive that he would not lose his spot-on People's Sexiest Man Alive list. In fact, I think he has gone up a few points. Heinz 57 no more!"

Marley nudged Mercedes' shoulder and continued. "He is one glorious creature that seriously needs to reproduce and spread his beautiful DNA for the world to see. Once you get back together with him, do the world a big gigantic favor and get pregnant quick. With that gene pool, it would be a waste not to," she said matter-of-factly.

The only thing Mercedes could do was shake her head at her friend.

"Well at least let him dick you down! Practice makes perfect."

"Now you are being vulgar. What would Ryder say if he had heard you talking like that?" Mercedes laughed.

Marley looked at her straight in the eyes. "Ryder would say 'let me drop my pants and assume the position.'" she started laughing again. "Besides, imagine bringing Sam to our 15th high school reunion in a few months. Sandy Patterson will lose her shit. The thought of seeing that alone is enough for me to buy a couple of tickets and pay for a babysitter."

Marley turned her head and noticed the astonished look on her friends face. "Cedes, don't look at me like that! You completely despise her as I do. The amount of grief that she gave you back in the day. I am sure that Sandy will fly into the reunion on her broomstick, ready to inflict her emotional terrorism. But the vision of you walking in on Sam's arm and seeing the look on Sandy's face it too delicious to ignore."

"You have issues Marley. Really! High school reunion! I haven't even decided to take him back yet."

"Oh, you will take him back." Marley said defiantly.

"Okay, Benedict Arnold. What makes you say that?" Mercedes question.

"Simple. You love him. You never flat out said it, but you wouldn't purposely make yourself miserable if you didn't. If you are worried about Anthony and if loving someone else would make you disloyal to him, put that thought out of your head right now. Anthony wouldn't want you to live the rest of your life as a monk. He would be very happy that you were able to build a life with someone else."

The playful laughter from earlier had disappeared from her lips and the situation of her current romantic life came over. The reality of her life had taken over.

"What if you're wrong?" Mercedes asked weakly, Marley's speech was still ringing in her ears. She had seriously doubted that Sam had ever been scared of anything in his life. "What if Sam doesn't think of me as his happily ever after?"

Marley grinned. "I'm not. If he didn't care about you, he wouldn't be here. He wouldn't have gone through all of this trouble just to plead his case. But there's only one way to find out and he happens to be sitting nearby. Go and talk to him. Go and hear him out. Don't let it go in one ear and out the other. I want you to really hear him. You will regret it if you don't."

Mercedes was still hesitant, but Marley refused to take that. "Get your butt up and go over there and talk to him. Don't sit there and punish yourself because you feel like you don't deserve love. Don't let your overreaction ruin what you and Sam have. You have punished Sam enough. Trust me, he has learned his lesson. It is time for you to let him off the hook."

"Come with me?" Mercedes said feebly.

"No way," Marley replied. "This is something that you need to do on your own. I don't think you really want me there anyway. It is your moment. I'm going to stay right here and order the flight attendants around. Girl, I got an hour before we land, so I need to make the most of my upgraded status. Who knows when I'll get another chance to be treated like a big shot?"

"Thanks," Mercedes said quietly. "I don't deserve you as a friend, but I am the luckiest person alive to call you my friend for almost thirty years. Just incase I don't tell you this enough, I love you".

"I love you too! Now you are going to make me cry in first-class." Marley sniffled out. "But you got that wrong. I am the luckiest one and I want you to have the best. I want you to have someone who will always be in your corner. Someone who knows how truly special that you are. Most people are lucky to find that kind of love once. But you lucked out because you found it twice. First with Anthony. Now with Sam. So go make this right. Just so you know, I do not want to wear an ugly matron-of-honor dress."

With that, Marley stood up and stepped into the aisle so Mercedes could get out of her window seat. They looked at each other in the eyes for a few seconds and Marley gave her an encouraging nod. Mercedes sighed and went up the aisle and claimed Marley's original window seat. Once she was buckled in, she looked over at Sam, who was still sitting in his assigned aisle seat. Sam took it as a sign, so he unbuckled his seat belt and made his way over to the aisle seat next to Merces. By then, she had turned her head back towards the window.

* * *

**There is nothing like having one conversation that could change your whole future. I wonder how the conversation will go. Will Sam convince Mercedes to stay in Atlanta and give him a chance?**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Thank you for the love!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own "Big Girl Panties" because that is owned by Stephanie Evanovich and her publishing company. I do not own Glee in any shape, form, or fashion, imaginary or otherwise. But if I did own it, I would have flat out said Mercedes Jones and Sam Evans were the endgame instead of vaguely mentioning it in the final episode. I definitely wouldn't have left any crucial scene displaying that fact on the cutting room floor. For that final number introduction, I would have it turn into a gathering for two reasons. The first to dedicate the auditorium to Finn. The second, for Sue to acknowledge that they were also all in town because Sam and Mercedes were scheduled to get married the next day. That it was part of a pre-wedding party.**

**Please excuse any errors because perfection is overrated. I use a very special BETA. The name of the business is Me, Myself, and I**.

* * *

_Mercedes sighed and went up the aisle and claimed Marley's original window seat. Once she was buckled in, she looked over at Sam, who was still sitting in his assigned aisle seat. Sam took it as a sign, so he unbuckled his seat belt and made his way over to the aisle seat next to Mercedes. By then, she had turned her head back towards the window._

Still staring at the cloud formations outside, Mercedes said, "Benedict Arnold convinced me to come and talk to you," she stated plainly.

She felt his strong fingers take wrapping around her hand. Then he began to faintly trace her discolored knuckles, the knuckles she had bruised when they had forcefully made contact with his face. He was so gentle, so caring in his touch. It was a as if he were examining them to see if she had just injured herself while clobbering him. Her throat tightened. She continued to stare out the window as she felt her right hand rising and before she knew it, she could feel his lips placing a feathery kiss on each of the three affected knuckles before he entwined his fingers in hers. Then he had settled both of their hands in his lap. It was a gesture so tender her eyes began to burn with sentiment she didn't want to give in to. Mercedes could tell that he was waiting for her to look up and deal with him. She swallowed hard and so she turned around and brought her face up to meet his. He was looking at her earnestly.

"If I had known all the trouble you were going to cause me, I would have stayed an extra night in San Francisco." he said with only a hint of teasing.

"You and me both. You should be ashamed of yourself! How dare you try to garner sympathy and support from my oldest friend. Don't you have enough friends of your own? Why did you have to go and steal mine?" she said, trying to maintain her posture of anger and trying to ignore the familiar warmth spreading throughout her whenever he looked at her like that.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Sam replied, a small grin playing at the corners of his mouth. " Hope you went easier on her than you did on me."

"I didn't punch her out if that's what you mean. Besides, she didn't embarrass the shit out of me by making me a laughingstock. Turning me into an inside joke with your friends."

"You punched me out in a room full of people. People who used to respect me. I'm going to spend the next week walking around looking like Popeye. Let's just call us even," he retorted, all the playfulness gone despite the joke. He was staring at her intently, even though he knew that so far this conversation hasn't been going as well as he had hoped.

"Is that why you are doing all of this Sam? Is that what this was all about? Getting even? I'm leaving town. You will never have to see me again and be reminded of last night. What more do you want?" she asked. Mercedes was still unwilling to believe that he had told her the night before. Guys like Sam didn't settle down. They played the field. They even enjoy counting the notches on the bedposts. Her mouth felt dry. She felt the tears of frustration beginning to build. Why did he insist on torturing her? Why couldn't he just thank her for making it easy for them both and move on, like she was doing?

"I told you. I'm not letting you go without a fight," he said soberly. "But please remember, I currently only have one eye left to see out of."

"This has nothing to do with me," she choked out, her voice raspy with unexpressed sorrow. "It has to do with you getting the upper hand or the last word or whatever else it is you think that you're owed."

"You're wrong Mercedes. It has everything to do with you. If I'd gotten what I wanted, I would have never met you. I would have continued with my perfectly happy life. I would have steered clear of the woman who would make me question every aspect of my very existence and shred my world piece by piece."

"You did the same thing to me," she said desolately. "Except for the prior-happy-life part."

Sam continued, his voice low and heavy with emotion. His eyes were melting into hers. "You are the woman who came out of nowhere and made me feel the most intense feelings possible in the most fun and amazing ways. In spite of your history full of misery and disappointment, you gave yourself to me so freely, in every single way that a person cam. I had your complete and unwavering trust."

"That's right Sam! You had it, but you destroyed it." Mercedes retorted back.

"Look babe, I know I sometimes took it for granted, we had a good thing. It is due to that that I refuse to believe that you had stopped caring about me over a stupid misunderstanding with a jealous petty ex-lover who was determined to try to take all of that away from us. You're way too smart for that."

"First of all, Sam, it wasn't a misunderstanding. You called me an ugly duckling behind my back and you had paraded that nickname to your friends. It was only after I had lost enough weight, was I deemed fit to be seen with you in a romantic capacity. Do you have any idea as to how that made me feel? Do you? No! Because you didn't take the time to even care. I felt like the goddamn after photo, safe to parade around your friends as if you were saying 'look at what I did! I turned this fat blob into someone worthy to be seen in public with'. You made me feel like shit and so to me it wasn't a misunderstanding. You have no right to belittle my feelings on that subject." Mercedes felt herself getting angry all over again. "Sam, you need to do better with your words, because right now, you are not selling yourself too well."

Sam took one look at her anguished face and he wished that he knew the right thing to say. Mercedes was right. He wasn't selling himself to well. All of this was foreign territory for Sam. He is used to having women chase after him. It is kind of strange to have the shoe on the other foot. But the one thing that he does know, that if he let this woman slip through his hands, he knew his whole world come crashing down. What he had told Quinn last night was the truth. The lady sitting next to him was his everything. The moment that he thought he had lost her; he knew that his playboy days were over. He couldn't let go. He didn't want to let her go.

Using his one remaining hand, he lifted it up and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "You're right. I am sorry. I didn't mean to belittle your feelings. That wasn't my intention at all." Sam flustered. "You have every right to be angry with me for that remark. Marley said on the phone last night that words have meaning. Words can encourage people, but they can harm people. I didn't understand that before, but I sure as hell understand that now.

"It is like when I am around you, I get all flustered and I say the wrong things. It is kind of like going back to middle school and you get all tongue tied whenever you get around your crush. That is how you make me feel. You make me nervous. You make me feel alive. You make me lose my control. With you, I feel like I am doing a freefall skydive and I never hit the ground. Basically, you just make me feel! Let me tell you something. It is euphoric."

Mercedes had looked away, staring blankly out of the plane's small oval window and the big fluffy clouds below in the distance. Sam was still looking at her as he continued his speech. "But at the risk of having you be angry with me; I have to say this. You are not like any woman that I have ever dated. Needless to say, I had the tendency to lean more towards the superficial route. I dated the person on the outside. Never once did I date the person on the inside. That is why I never did relationships. Then you came into my life and wormed your way in it. You became an important factor in it. I knew that I had feelings for you that were more than friendship and I will be the first to admit, that I wasn't sure on how to handle it. You are not my usual size four. I wasn't sure on how it would look like to those on the outside looking in, especially with my profession. I even talked with Mike about it. Long story short, he said the heart wants what the heart wants and damn anybody else."

When Sam didn't hear a reply coming from Mercedes' mouth, he continued in the hopes of finally getting through to her. "I know exactly how you feel. I thought about running too. I am not use to having someone take over my emotions. To have someone be the subject of my every thought. To not be around that person makes me physically ill. I know that you wanted to run too. You think that you are so not worthy of being loved anymore, that you were willing to use any excuse to cut and run. Unfortunately, with the ugly duckling thing, I had given you the perfect excuse to bail. For that, I am sorry that I even gave you that open door. But I want you to realize that we both need to take a leap of faith. For us both to take a chance of being hurt or left again. I want you to know that I am not going anywhere. You are pretty much stuck with me."

Mercedes was still listening to Sam pour his heart out to her. Her face was still facing the window. She didn't want Sam to see the tears that once again pooled in her eyes and then slowly crept down her face. So much of what he said was the truth and she didn't want to admit it. She had been waiting for him to leave her from the moment that their affair started. A wave of shame came out of nowhere and washed over her. She would never let him defend or explain himself. She went straight to thinking the worst of him. She had let the feeling of betrayal fester into vengeance in record time. Where just a day ago, she had felt vindication and righteous anger, she now felt humiliation.

Sam let her indulge in her moment of withdrawal and let his words sink in before gently taking her chin and turning her face back to his again.

"I love you Mercedes. You're the most beautiful person that I have ever known," Sam said softly, stroking his thumb across her cheek. "You are not only beautiful on the outside, but the inside as well. You will never be a size six or an eight. Your body was not built that way. To me, no matter what your size is, you are perfection. I love you with everything I am. You are my heart. When I think of my life moving forward without you in it, my soul hurts." Sam reached out and wiped a tear that had escaped down her face. He looked at her gently and all that Mercedes could see is the love in his green orbs. "I'm onto you Mrs. Jones! Your days of hitting and running are over because I will never let you go."

At those words, Mercedes was still hypnotized by his earlier words. "So, are you saying that you would be okay if I stay at a size ten or twelve, possibly a size fourteen or sixteen if I ever get knocked up?" she said playfully.

"Read my lips: You Are Perfection." Sam said quickly without skipping a beat. Never say that Sam was stupid.

"You want to know how confident I am in us?" he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. "This is how confident I am in us." He handed the envelope over to her.

Mercedes took the envelope and proceeded to open up it up. Inside there was a paper confirmation for two tickets to the operatic version of Porgy and Bess that will be at the Cobb Energy Performing Arts Centre this coming March. She pulled her head up and looked at Sam in astonishment. "So, Marley told you? That must have been some talk."

"It was enlightening. I am glad that she told me. I didn't realize that I was doing that until she had mentioned it to me. I'm sorry about that." he said humbly.

"Why didn't you tell me of any of this last night?" She asked, her voice shaking and her chin trembling.

Sam gave her a weary smile and squeezed her hand before kissing it again. "I wanted to, but by the time I had found the right words, you had handed me my walking papers. You had a real creepy calm about you. I wasn't sure how mad you still were and I wasn't willing to risk a kick to the jewels on top of my black eye."

A giggle escaped and that was a total contrast to her tear-filled eyes. They shared a small knowing smile as the flight attendant showed up with her service tray. It was impossible to miss the admiration in the attendant's eye when she looked at Sam. Or the poorly masked envy when she saw his hand securely wrapped around Mercedes'. Only this time, Mercedes didn't even feel intimidated. In fact, she quite enjoyed them because now she knows for sure that this hunk of a man now belongs to her an no one else.

They sat in silence for a while. Mercedes finally broke the stillness with this question. "Sam? What do you see in me?"

She had asked him that question once before. Before he knew life with her would be so much better than going it alone. Before he knew that commitment wasn't a trap, but a treasured gift. This time he was determined to get the answer right.

"I see the woman who taught me how to love. And I have no intention of letting her go."

"Good answer," she murmured, blushing.

"Glad you approve." He smiled devilishly at her. "I'll stand up and shout it if you need me to."

"Just so you know, this doesn't mean that I am taking you back. Don't get too comfortable and sure of yourself, even though I might want to actually see you shout that out in public," Mercedes fibbed, wanting to curtail some of his swagger.

"I've got about just under an hour before my clock runs out and that doesn't even count car trip to Lima. So, be careful what you wish for," he replied as he popped a strawberry in his mouth. "I'm ready, willing, and able to profess my love for you to the other six or seven people here. For an added touch, I will add on the sad story of just how I got this black eye. I might take my show on the road and head into coach. Maybe even the cockpit."

They went back to giving each other some quiet space. But he took the opportunity to touch her and he took it often. He leaned his leg against hers, a tender brush against her arm or hand with his. Each and every contact made Mercedes more aware of Just how much pleasure she took from it and how much she would really miss it if they weren't together. When their drinks were carted away as they got prepared for landing, he had dozed off a bit.

Mercedes watched him. She thought about all that he had said and a touch of guilt bubbled to the surface. She had taken him out of his comfort zone to make him look ridiculous and humanly possible. At the same time, he had taken her out of hers to save her life and then change it. Turned her world upside down and made her stronger. There was nothing she could do about that now. All she could do was to spend the rest of her life trying to make it up to him. It sounded like a wonderful proposition.

She turned around in her seat and she had caught Marley peeking around her seat from a couple of rows behind her. They made eye contact and smiled at each other before Marley gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up and turned around to settle back in her seat. Mercedes continued watching Sam a moment more, then she reached out and gently ran her finger tips along his cheekbone, just below the swelling and he stirred.

"You okay?" he asked her, opening his eyes.

"Does it hurt?"

"Only when I blink," he teased, closing them again.

"It must be quite a shock in the mirror," she said seriously.

"Nah," he replied drowsily, reaching out for her hand. "I think it makes me look tough. I am planning on telling people I got pistol-whipped breaking up a robbery."

"You look tired," she said, noting the dark circle under his good eye.

"It takes a lot out of a guy to get his ass kicked and hatch a devious plot in about twelve hours." He opened his eyes and turned his head to gaze at her before saying gently, "We can stop in on your parents if you like?

Mercedes installed paled and looked away. "I can't make you do that. I don't know what's there. Hell, I don't even want to be there."

Sam took her by the chin to face him, then cradled her head in his hand. He tilted his head to lock his eyes on hers. " My beautiful swan. Whatever's there, you're strong enough to face it and I will be right there, spotting for you like always. Because whatever this thing is, we're in it together. We'll do what we can. We don't have to stay. We don't even have to go at all."

She blinked up at him, glassy eyed and wordless. He brushed her cheek with his thumb before kissing the other and releasing her.

"Decide when we land," he said confidently, resuming his grasp of her hand.

"Babe," Mercedes said. "I think for the sake of our happy relationship, we really need to eighty-six any pet names that have to do with animals and food. Lord knows you don't want another black eye." Mercedes winked at him.

Sam thought about if a second and then commented. "That is probably an excellent life choice. But what kind nicknames of endearment am I allowed?"

"I don't know," she teased him back. "Goddess Divine sounds good."

Sam leaned over and gave her a peck on the lips. "My Goddess Divine." He said before he closed his eyes again.

Mercedes went back to looking at him, only this time she was sure that she could see beyond the spectacular physicality straight down to his heart. And in the end, she decided it was really just as beautiful as the rest of him. He wanted her to have his heart. He had gotten the message across in a way that would have rivaled any romance movie that she would ever see. He was her real-life hero. With that realization, her own heart swelled with the love she'd had for him all along. She didn't want to run, ignore, or dispute it anymore. Marley was right, she did love him. Now, she only wanted to enjoy the feeling for however long it lasted.

"I love you too Sam." Mercedes said it so softly, it was barely a whisper. But she could tell he heard it when the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly and his fingers tightened around hers.

"I guess the tickets back to Georgia are on me," she finally said, finally assuring him that his plan had worked.

"Not necessary," Sam replied easily even though his eyes were still closed. He gave her hand another squeeze before continuing. "Mike's jet is waiting for us at Lima Allen County Airport."

Mike. An uneasy giggle blurted out of her mouth. She could almost hear the stammering that would take place once he saw her again. After all, it was the Changs' party that she ruined with her swan dive and one-two punch. Once she was on the plane, she had completely forgotten about facing the music. That was one apology that she was not looking forward to.

Sam read her mind. "You should be way more concerned about Tina." He chuckled as he silently cheered up by the prospect of seeing Tina making someone else miserable for a change. "She's going to run you through the wringer."

"Well when I finally realized this morning that my little stunt possibly decreased the donations that she would have gotten otherwise, I had called my accountant and asked him to make that correction. I was originally going to donate anyway, but I had increased the donation. After all, nothing smooths over cracked bridges like a big, fat check."

"That's a very good plan."

"Well I do come up with one every once in a while," Mercedes replied back. "Speaking of the Changs', Mike has a plane?

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Mike has everything. When I told him what I was planning to do, he offered it up and I was smart enough to accept."

"You consulted with him on all this mess? Needed his approval, did you?" She felt irked and embarrassed.

"Well, I did have to cancel his appointment for today," he said, taking the time to remind her of all the sacrifices that were made on her behalf. "And lots of others."

"A tad bit presumptuous, don't you think?" She tried to sound miffed because she had felt the urge to cover up another pang of guilt. "Guess you were all pretty confident of the outcome here?"

"Not at all." Sam explained while he stretched out his long legs and bestowing her a wry grin. "You know that he is a hopeless romantic. I think he felt partially responsible. He was also kind enough to point out that if my plan didn't work, It wouldn't be fair to subject the general public to my devastation. I could brood and cry all the way home in private."

"I don't know why I should be surprised. Mike does have the tendency to think of everything," she marveled.

"That he does," Sam said. "So once we get on the plane, we got some serious making up to do. I plan on joining you in the Mile-High-Club over St. Louis. That is the beautiful thing about private planes."

Mercedes didn't think she could stand waiting that long and leaned over to place a warm, lingering kiss on his lips. Suddenly the thought of an airplane takeoff seemed like the best idea in the world. She couldn't wait to do it again. The flight attendants announced that the seat belt sign had been turned back on and they will be landing in about five minutes.

"Speaking of what is and isn't your style, I can't believe you're just going to let what happened last night go, no matter how badly you wanted me back." Her voice was full of warranted skepticism.

"Oh, I never said that, He chuckled. "I will have my payback."

Sam could sense her fidgeting and then felt her remove herself from his shoulder. He opened he good eye and saw where wringing her hands, worrying her lower lip in that way that he adored. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes narrowed as if she was deep in thought. She was ignorant of his watching her, busy concentrating on trying to figure out what he might have in store for her. He grinned and stretched again. He clasped his hands behind his head and left them there, savoring the moment. He exhaled in ultimate victory before saying under his breath, "You thought you hated leg lunges before…."

"Lunges!" Mercedes looked at him, shook her head, sighed and said, "**And so it goes**."

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**Well that is it! I hope that you had enjoyed my SamCedes spin on the novel. I did more fleshing out than I had planned, but it was fun. **

**I want to thank everyone who gave this story a shot. The favs, follows, and reviews that appeared in my email are cherished by me. This is my first time ever posting a story. Normally, I do reviews. Long winded reviews. LOL! But I didn't realize the feelings that are attached to posting a story. With every chapter, I turned into a nervous wreck, wondering if people would even read it, much less even like it. Stepping out of my comfort zone is frightening has hell.**

**It had turned into my baby. So, I treated it like a baby. I treated this story like it was my job. I treated it like my senior thesis that counted for 50% of my grade. That if I didn't turn it in, I would fail the class. So I created a schedule and made sure that I worked on it everyday. I made it a point to have a chapter posted each day. I know how I operate. If I let just one day slip by, that one day would turn into two, and before I knew it, weeks or months would have gone by without any updates. As a reader, I know how frustrating that can be. But now as a writer, I can understand how easily that can happen. I refused to fall into that trap because I was determined to finish it. **

**My goal to mark it completed has been achieved. A beginning, a middle, and an end. Will I do another story? I don't know. But what I do know, is the fact that I did this one. For me, that was an accomplishment. A New Year's Resolution that I was determined to keep, even though I had a feeling that I was going to break it like everyone does. **

**Thank you again for your open arms and for allowing me to entertain you. I had fun doing this! Time to go back to my comfort zone of doing reviews.**

**Until we meet again ... Have a great day Bunnies!**


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